


the last straw in the restaurant, but i don't mind sharing

by timber (calculus)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Best Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build, Wordcount: Over 20.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1331980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculus/pseuds/timber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite their joint insistency of having known each other since before the dawn of time itself, Lu Han actually met Yixing his first day of orientation at NYU.</p><p>In which Lu Han has to learn his own feelings, Yixing's waiting for someone to make a move, and Jongdae has a twelve-step plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the last straw in the restaurant, but i don't mind sharing

The spring of their sophomore year, Lu Han took time when not killing himself over presuppositions and implicatures to work on a side project, complete with powerpoint presentation. It listed all the reasons why he and Yixing should move off-campus their last two years of college, to live like true hippies and ‘experience the real world’.

He sat Yixing down at their regular table in Pho Bang during lunch, and Yixing smiled at him, unquestioning. Lu Han's laptop plus powerpoint was stowed securely in the knock-off MCM bag he’d gifted himself the past Christmas. (He'd gotten Yixing a matching one because the old lady hawking them had been especially persuasive.) Yixing ordered them their normal orders—an extra big bowl of the number one combo for Lu Han, a regular forty-one for him, and a large plate of spring rolls to split between them—and Lu Han’s prepared speech fell apart before it even left his lips.

“Let me be your sugar daddy for the next two years,” was what stumbled out instead. Yixing stared blankly at Lu Han for a few moments before his eyes widened and his smile froze. Lu Han felt like crawling under a rock and dying, flushed bright maroon with embarrassment.

“Are you having one of those fantasies again?” he asked concerned, leaning forward with a hand out to feel up Lu Han’s forehead. “It’s me, Lu Han, Yixing Zhang, can you hear me?”

“Oh my god,” Lu Han groaned and smacked his hand away, opting to smother himself with the table surface. Yixing lifted his head up before it managed to touch the glass and placed a napkin down under his cheeks before pushing his head back down. “This was not how I wanted to start this conversation.”

Yixing laughed lightly. Their server came by with the customary plate of basil and bean sprouts and fish sauce, and Yixing waited until everything was placed down before responding. “You know, if you wanted me to live with you next year off campus, you could’ve just said so. That, at least, I was prepared to hear, but a sugar daddy offer? I’m gonna have to take longer on that one.”

Lu Han looked up with grunt, dismayed grimace all over his face. “You _knew_ , and you still let me waste a month writing up that presentation? You asshole. I don’t know why everybody thinks you’re a nice person because you are literally the worst.”

Yixing’s eyes sparkled, innocent smile stretching his lips. “I wanted to wait until you finished searching for good places so I didn’t have to look myself,” he said mildly, thanking their server who returned back with their bowls of noodles. He pulled out two pairs of chopsticks from the plastic container at the end of the table and nudged Lu Han with his foot to take his pair.

“Actual worst,” Lu Han repeated with a grumble, pulling his bowl of pho towards him. “I take it all back. You can suffer in the dorms by yourself.” Yixing beamed and places a particularly big piece of pork on top of his red beef.

“Here, daddy, a reward for your hard work.”

 

-

 

Yixing gets out of class first on Wednesdays, so he usually loiters around on campus in the Starbucks right next to the Silver Building, kicking at his heels waiting for Lu Han’s dismissal from his office hours at the linguistics department so they can go for lunch.

Today, Lu Han sneaks out a few minutes early because no one comes by for the last thirty minutes of his office hours anyway, and his stomach’s already been protesting the lack of food it’d been denied the entire morning. He notes the crispness as he hits the outdoor cold, draws his light jacket closer to his body with a rueful smile. It seems like fall’s fast-fading into winter this year; he’ll need to break out his winter coats in about a week or so if this temperature keeps going.

Thankfully, the Starbucks is only a street away. Lu Han crosses onto Greene St with a perfunctory glance for errant cars, and subtly tries to look in through the glass panes of the coffee shop for Yixing’s seated figure. Today’s overcast though, but with the occasional bright glare of a beaming sun, so Lu Han mostly sees his own reflection mirrored in the windows, blocking out the groups of students and patrons in the shop. He takes a moment to study himself in the window, mindful of the audience he’s probably in front of, and swipes his bangs to the side, adjusting his knit cap.

He can hear loud laughter, even through the thick windowpane, and he moves in closer to see who it is. There’s a couple of girls sitting immediately at the window seat right before him, staring amusedly at him, and he blushes deep pink, smiling the grimace that never fails to turn up in moments of embarrassment. But it’s not them that’s laughing; sitting a few feet away from them, near the wooden plant dividers of Starbucks are Kris, Minseok, and Jongdae at a rounded table, pointing at him and snickering. Well, Jongdae’s pointing; Kris and Minseok just wave from across the shop, smirking and smiling respectively at him.

Lu Han lets out a breath of laughter and waves back, and makes his way around the building to the entrance. He swings open the door, letting an exiting girl with a violin case strapped to her back go through first, and enters into the store, breathing in deep the heavy smells of pumpkin spice and burnt espresso.

He makes a beeline for his friends’ table, punches Jongdae lightly in the neck for his obnoxious laughter, and plops himself down in the remaining open seat, a red hoodie hanging off its back, right in between Jongdae and Minseok.

“Couldn’t resist your vanity, huh?” Jongdae mocks lightly, grinning at him. Lu Han makes a face at him, but shrugs. He flicks his bangs back with a light toss of his head, which Jongdae rolls his eyes at.

“You guys here with Yixing?” he asks, turning his head back and forth for Yixing’s curly-top head. Kris nods his head while sipping down his latte and points to the bathroom doors over his shoulder.

“Yeah, he’s in the bathroom. We’re tagging along today.” He nods at Lu Han’s seat. “You’re sitting in his spot, by the way.”

“Yeah,” Lu Han says noncommittally, curling his fingers around a sleeve opening of the hoodie behind him unnoticed. “Were you waiting long then?”

Minseok shakes his head, pleasant canine grin across his cheeks. “We only got here a few minutes before you did, actually.” Jongdae leans in, conspiratorial glint in his eyes, and mock whispers at Lu Han.

“We would’ve gotten here a half-hour ago, actually, but Kris got caught up in watching Yixing play the piano in the rec room. He had us hiding behind the doors for a good ten minutes while he peeked through the windows.”

Kris chokes mid-sip on his latte, almost spills over the brim of his cup with the force of his splutter, and Lu Han brays in laughter while Jongdae looks on in smug satisfaction. Minseok huffs a small breath of amusement and pushes the pile of brown napkins at his side to Kris, who coughs out a thank you and grabs onto a fistful. Kris quickly mops up the slow dripping mess on his cup and the splash zone around him, and dabs at his dark blue button-down gingerly for any possible spillage, coughing wetly.

“That’s some reaction, Kris, you look almost guilty,” Lu Han says slyly, propping his cheek up with a fist on a dry spot of the table. Kris glares at him, still coughing, and flashes a crooked backwards victory sign at him. Lu Han grins placidly back at him, well aware the index finger is only up out of courtesy for the group of girls sitting directly in front of them, and basks in the disgruntled expression of his friend.

“I wasn’t gawking or anything, okay, it was just really good to listen to,” Kris sputters defensively in between hacking up his lung. Minseok nods sympathetically, eyes sparkling with amusement, but Lu Han tunes out.

He sees Yixing exit out of the bathroom doors first, the others facing away from doors, and tilts his head a little away from his hand to catch Yixing’s eyes. Yixing smiles back when he sees him, neutral expression blooming into something fond, and flicks his eyes to Kris’ hunched back with intent. Lu Han holds back a snort and subtly nods, propping his face back down to watch Yixing slowly creep up behind Kris with his arms at his sides.

Kris is still talking, hunching into himself further and further as Jongdae continues to needle him, but Minseok’s already caught on, having looked up and seen Yixing’s quietly approaching figure. He nudges Lu Han softly, eyebrows furrowed in a knowing expression, and Lu Han grins back.

“—not like I was stalking him or anything, okay, it’s not like that—”

Yixing stops right behind Kris’ chair and gently lays a small hand on Kris’ shoulder, index finger lifted so that it’d poke Kris’ cheek when he turned his head. “What’s all this about, hm? I leave for a few minutes, and you guys throw a party without me?”

“Well, you know,” Lu Han says cheekily, lazily fanning his fingers out for a little wave, “like the words of one of the great philosophers of our generation: ‘the party don’t start ‘til I walk in.’” Yixing snorts, hand still on Kris and oblivious to his frozen posture.

Jongdae coughs into a fist rather obviously, and Lu Han feels the movement of a scuffle under the table, Kris’ loud yelp and betrayed glare at Jongdae outing its culprit. It shakes Kris out of his paralysis, though, and he twists around with a forced grin to greet Yixing.

“Hey,” he ekes out, feigning nonchalance—a little too late, in Lu Han’s opinion, since Yixing had been there long enough to hear at least the tail-end of his petulant sulking—but Yixing just smiles down at him without bias and pats his back warmly.

“I’m glad someone enjoys my playing,” he says sincerely, and Kris’ expression spasms, visibly reining back a blanch, and his cheeks bloom like a ripe tomato. It’s not a great look for his complexion.

Lu Han pouts, screwing his lips up exaggeratedly. “Hey, I appreciate you! Just not at three in the morning when I’m trying to sleep for my chem final.” Yixing rolls his eyes, fingers resting on the breadth of Kris’ shoulders, oblivious to Kris’ transparent fluster. Lu Han hides a grin.

“Yes, Lu Han, I appreciate you too. Thank you for your loud snoring when _I’m_ trying to study for my theory of harmonization exam, and for your unhelpful commentary when I’m practicing for my jury examination, and for all the Dorito crumbs you spew over the couch when you’re watching your Korean dramas and never clean up. Where would I be without you?” Yixing dimples, though, at the end of his mock rant, and Lu Han snickers.

Jongdae shifts away from the table, sparking the chain reaction from the rest of the table as everyone else stands up from their seats and gathers up the trash and empty cups. “Well, I know _I_ appreciate actually eating lunch before two o’clock, so if we can hurry this along and actually go get something before I have to go cry at my econ notes?”

Kris stands awkwardly in front of his seat, back stiff and shoulders pressed out, blunted by his cracked leather jacket. Yixing’s palm lays flat against his spine, undisturbed by the movement of their tablemates, and Lu Han stares unobtrusively at it for a few seconds. There’s a question forming in the back of his skull, slowly building itself, but Lu Han blinks it away, focusing instead on the rumble of his stomach and the answering growl from Yixing’s.

“Ah yes, time to refuel this robot body of mine,” Lu Han jokes, patting his stomach, and gestures for Jongdae and Minseok to start the exodus out of Starbucks. Yixing moves away from Kris now, and goes for the hoodie draped over the chair Lu Han vacated. Kris shifts his weight uneasily, under Lu Han’s arched brows, and opens his mouth, ready to say something.

“Come _on_ , guys, I’m dissolving into the sands of time here, let’s _go_ ,” whines Jongdae from the entrance door, Minseok standing next to him and tapping away at his phone. Yixing giggles a little. Kris snaps his mouth shut and hurries to the door, mumbling that they’ll go on first.

Lu Han watches their friends get ushered out by Kris’ large hands, and waits for Yixing to sling his hoodie on. He’s only mildly surprised when Yixing gently lays it over his own jacket instead, tugging the sleeves over Lu Han’s slouched shoulders with a stolid face.

“You’re gonna catch a cold like this,” is all Lu Han says, slipping his arms into the gifted hoodie and pulling it on, small closed-mouth smile on his face. Yixing shrugs, adjusting the string ties of the red hood, matching private smile on his lips.

“This way I won’t have to hear you whining for the next week over the cold _you’re_ gonna get with your weak immune system. I’m doing both of us a favor,” Yixing says primly. Lu Han doesn’t comment on the thin sweater Yixing’s got on as his only layer, just knocks his shoulders against Yixing’s as they make their way to the entrance and out the Starbucks shop.

They stick close for the rest of the walk to lunch; Lu Han stays toasty warm the whole time.

 

-

 

Despite their joint insistency of having known each other since before the dawn of time itself, Lu Han actually met Yixing his first day of orientation at NYU. They hadn’t been roommates that first year, Lu Han paired with a surly looking boy who spoke in a mangled mash of four different languages in his sleep and Yixing with a guy who’d stayed over at his girlfriend’s place more often than not, but they’d been joined at the hip enough that it didn’t matter anyway.

Lu Han’s been an only kid his whole life; his dad had left way before him and his mother could come back together for a second child, so Lu Han has been on his own for the past twenty years. It hadn’t made him any more or less of a person. Standard absentee father issues aside, Lu Han grew up pretty much like any other average first-gen Chinese-American kid, if not a little more distant and detached with things like affection. He’s had his share of wanting to fit into a culture that didn’t quite know what to do with a kid who looked like an alien, but spoke better than their own kids; he came out of that numb and resigned at the world.

Yixing had been unassuming and unimpressive, to be perfectly honest, their first meeting. He was a dance major with plans to perform professionally, unexpectedly big dreams for someone who presented himself with both feet firm on the ground. But there was a sincerity in his serious words that drew Lu Han in, made him stay planted next to Yixing when he would’ve hit town otherwise, and he’s grateful he took that chance.

Yixing came into the country when he was around ten from Changsha, the alternative universe version to Lu Han’s American-born life. He spoke more fluent Mandarin than Lu Han had ever dreamt of, but he talked like he’d grown up right beside Lu Han, the next-door neighbor’s kid that Lu Han had always wanted to be best friends with. In another world, Lu Han might’ve resented Yixing for having the cultural bridge that he never did, but he’s so glad he found him in this one.

They became roommates their sophomore year, despite all the advice about not rooming with your best friends, and while it wasn’t the most idyllic of circumstances, Lu Han also never ran into the prophesied troubles that all the college guidebooks and blogs warned for. Yixing was not messy nor was he loud; whatever living tics they both had, they adjusted to each other’s quirks and made it work. Lu Han took over laundry duties when he kept finding week-old socks stuffed under Yixing’s bed when he visited his room, and Yixing did the cooking after Lu Han almost burned down the kitchen three separate times.

But it was Yixing’s waist injury that really cemented their friendship into something solid. A month into their second year in college, Yixing managed to pull his waist just weeks before his opening performance for the first of his department’s fall shows. It would’ve been all right if Yixing had just left it alone and had listened to the doctor’s orders of bedrest and no aggravating the injury. Instead, Lu Han had underestimated—or had never quite understood just how stubborn Yixing really was—Yixing’s attention to his craft, and had to be called in at four AM in the morning to drag Yixing’s prone body to the hospital from the practice room.

By then, Yixing had fucked up his back to such an extent that he literally could not walk without support, and Lu Han spent the next month in between studying for his own classes having to be Yixing’s physical crutch while he went to class. It put a strain on their friendship, Yixing constantly forcing himself to go to class even though he already had the understandings from his professors and a doctor’s note to keep him bound to bed and Lu Han having to bite back his words while he watched his best friend kill himself over this injury.

Yixing’s dance instructor forcibly put an end to Yixing coming into studio classes after a week of Yixing continuously staying after studio hours even after they begged him to go home, which Lu Han had been ecstatic about, though Yixing had only begrudgingly accepted his fate. He made sure to keep his thoughts to himself, with Yixing’s increasingly black mood most days, but it was hard not to be pleased when Yixing could finally walk without having to grab onto something after two weeks of enforced exile from dance.

The only thing that made Yixing tolerable company was when he went to his music theory and music literature classes. The days when he’d come home bouncing after those classes were the most pleasant Yixing had been since the injury had happened, and he’d bring back tidbits about how interesting composition was and how fun he’d found the keyboard. Lu Han focused on that when he engaged Yixing in conversation on the days he was supposed to be at dance, and it became enough of an interest that Yixing had continued to focus on those topics long after he’d gotten well enough to begin attending physical dance classes again. His waist never quite recovered, though, already too late and too fucked up by his stubbornness, but it seemed less of an issue after.

Lu Han heard about Yixing’s in-school transfer from Tisch to Steinhardt only after Yixing got the letter, with Yixing sitting him down after he came back from a grueling day dealing with obnoxious freshmen in his o-chem lab and apologizing for the past few months. It had been short and unexpected, but it was welcomed news considering Lu Han had dreaded an inevitable departure from Yixing with his waist too fucked to continue on with his dance major.

But, Yixing is here to stay, thankfully, and Lu Han still feels the relief of being able to keep his best friend, even presently. Yixing fixes the gaps that Lu Han’s grown up with, fills them in with his steadying presence and his deadpan humor and his infectious laughter, and Lu Han doesn’t quite know what to do without him now that he’s known Yixing. A life without Yixing would be colorless.

 

-

 

Yixing brought with him to college a year-long relationship with a girl from his high school back in Boston. Lu Han only found out because he’d accidentally entered his room once while they’d been in the middle of a Skype chat and had to awkwardly introduce himself; Yixing made him stay and talk with them for the rest of the session though.

She was a pretty girl, long hair and big brown eyes, with a delicate smile. The Skype version of her was pixelated, but Yixing’s carefully maintained photo of her in his fraying wallet proved her pristine. A good, proper Chinese girl, like Lu Han’s grandmother would say. She went to school across the country, her and Yixing in bookend states, but they’d seemed happy in their chats together, even though Lu Han only had one chat to speak from.

Yixing casually dropped their breakup during one of his and Lu Han’s cram sessions, a few days into their first reading period. Lu Han remembers this well because it had been so easily slipped into their idling conversation that he’d almost trampled past it before the words had sunk in.

“Why? I thought you guys were good,” he’d asked, capping the highlighter in his hand and looking up from his bright yellow textbook. Yixing sat across the table from him, leaning back into the uncomfortable plastic chairs the university supplied their lounges with, and looked distantly up at the ceiling.

“We were.” He offered nothing else for a while. Lu Han bit his tongue from prompting Yixing, determined to let him continue. “She wanted to wait for me.”

Lu Han stared blankly at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Yixing sat back up, small smile dimpling his cheeks. “I didn’t want her to.” And that had been the end of their conversation.

 

-

 

There’s the quiet tapping of laptop keys being pressed and the conversational tones of the DJ of the Sino radio station and his guest in the background. Yixing’s bent over the coffee table, jotting down notes as he skims through his texts, lightly humming a four-beat melody. He stops occasionally, laying down his pen, and does some fingering on a keyboard only he can see.

Lu Han’s sprawled on the couch right behind him, flicking through the pages of his phonetics textbook, staring unseeingly at the mass of miniscule type and spectrograms. He glances every few minutes at the back of Yixing’s head, tousled brown curls frizzing up in the sticky humidity of their apartment, and wonders when they’ll take a break.

He lets out a soft sigh, thumbs the page over, and drops his head into the centrefold of his text, smooshing his face in between the passages of voiced onset time and intonation types.

“It’s been only fifteen minutes, you know,” says Yixing, amused. Lu Han grunts, not bothering to lift his head off; he doesn’t have to look to know Yixing’s got his stupid judging smile dimpling out right now. “We still have another four hours to go before a reasonable break time.”

“Four _hours_ , dear god,” Lu Han splutters, groaning muffled into his textbook. He lifts his face off finally to breathe properly and plops his chin down on the book instead. “Can’t we go get lunch now?”

“We could, but we’d still have to come back to study after,” Yixing says patiently, eyes on his books. Lu Han makes a face, but forces himself to start reading again. After a few minutes of intent reading (of the same passage, but at least it’ll be seared into his brain after this), Lu Han sighs again and presses himself back into the couch cushions, lolling his head at the top.

The ceiling looks infinitely more interesting—it looks like a corner’s starting to mold, actually. He should call the super for that soon.

The decisive snap of a book closed draws Lu Han’s attention away, not super invested in the state of their ceiling in the first place (although mold is quite a sobering matter that they should fix as soon as possible), and he finds Yixing’s gaze finally fixed on him.

“Lunch time,” Yixing affirms with a dimpled smile. “The sooner I get you out of this house, the sooner I can go back to studying in peace.”

Lu Han beams and tosses his textbook onto the cushions. “I’m glad you see it my way. Where to?”

Yixing lifts himself slowly, a little heavily from his prolonged crosslegged position, and Lu Han lays an automatic hand on his lower back, rubbing in slightly, as Yixing unfurls into a standing position. He quirks his lips in thanks, and twists his torso to and from, careful not to dislodge Lu Han’s hand.

“Bang? Noodletown? What do you feel like?” Yixing asks with a shrug. Lu Han considers his stomach for a moment, absentmindedly rubbing slow circles into Yixing’s waist.

“I want sandwiches today,” he says finally. Yixing hums, and turns around to pull Lu Han up from the couch.

“Definitely easier on our wallets,” he says agreeably, pushing Lu Han in the direction of his bedroom. “Go get dressed then.”

“We should do a grocery run while we’re out then,” Lu Han prompts, voice trailing into his room. He rummages around in his dresser cabinet for clothes. “We’re out of food that’s not hydrogenated oils and early heart attacks.” He comes back out, a clean t-shirt in one hand and a pair of shorts pinched between fingers.

Yixing laughs and runs a hand through his hair, having pulled on shoes and switched his ratty tank for a thin white tee in the mean time. “Write me down a list and remind me after we eat.”

 

-

 

Lu Han shuffles back into their apartment with a sullen expression and hard eyes.

The TV’s rattling away, a rerun of one of those old mainland dramas back in the late 90s that he vaguely remembers watching on his grandmother’s old television set in Haidian, and Yixing’s curled up comfortably on the couch with a throw blanket and a crate of clementines, already half-demolished. Yixing looks up from the clementine he has in his hands, bright orange peel in between his small fingers, and welcomes Lu Han back with a faint smile. It fades away when he registers the black cloud hanging over Lu Han’s slouched figure.

“Rough date?” he asks sympathetically. Lu Han sighs once, tries to expel all the chewed up words and hurt he’d choked down during the actual date with Joonmyeon, but it leaves him just feeling cold and uncomfortably fragile. Yixing frowns and pats the space next to him on the couch, tossing the clementine peels strewn on the seat back into the crate. Lu Han sheds his jacket and toes out of his boots, a little violently when his right heel refuses to slip off, and pads over to where Yixing’s sitting and flops down next to him.

“Relationships suck. A lot.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound good.” Yixing finishes peeling the clementine and pulls it in half, splitting the sections. He lifts a segment to Lu Han’s lips, holds it steady until Lu Han reluctantly opens his mouth, and feeds it in gently.

Lu Han chews the piece with a barely restrained pout, and opens his mouth again for another slice after he swallows. Yixing obligingly pushes the rest of the clementine half in, and Lu Han makes himself smile around the segments in his mouth in thanks.

“You wanna talk about it or you wanna watch TV with me instead?” Yixing says after a few moments of silent chewing from Lu Han. Lu Han grimaces again.

“Definitely TV,” he asserts, and lets himself fall sideways onto Yixing’s lap, brushing away any stray peels and pith before resting his cheeks onto Yixing’s sturdy thighs. Yixing lifts his hands up so Lu Han can get comfortable then lays them back down on Lu Han’s arms. “What are we watching tonight?”

Yixing lifts the remote from the coffee table and raises the volume. “A really badly subbed melodrama that Mrs. Chen from the floor below us lent me. I think it’s about lawyers and family inheritances? I went to the bathroom without pausing for a minute and came back to somebody being murdered on-screen. I’m not really sure what’s going on anymore.”

Lu Han muffles a snort into the folds of Yixing’s jeans. “Sounds like a fun show. Riveting.” Yixing flicks him on the arm, right where the t-shirt sleeve ends and skin peeks out.

“Mrs. Chen asked about you again, y’know. Wanted to know if you would be willing to help her daughter out by being her date to her friend’s wedding next week; her daughter’s quite infatuated, I hear,” Yixing says, pinching tiny areas around Lu Han’s arm where the skin shows. Lu Han groans this time.

“God, Mrs. Chen, I just got dumped by my boyfriend an hour ago. Can’t it wait?” he whines pitifully, lifting a foot in a halfhearted thump against the armrest of the couch. “I need at least a month before my broken heart can mend itself enough to go out on blind dates with your daughters.” Yixing stops his motions.

“Joonmyeon dumped you?” he asks quietly. Lu Han stills, any sort of forced lightheartedness from their earlier chatter pushed away with Yixing’s concerned tone. “Are you okay?”

Not really. Lu Han squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face into Yixing’s lap, pretends that if he hid enough, everything would snap back into place before today had happened. It wasn’t even a super big deal, to be honest; he and Joonmyeon had barely gotten out of the friends-with-benefits zone that Lu Han had staunchly stashed Joonmyeon in when they’d first met, but he thought he’d been doing good. He’d been trying with the whole boyfriends thing, go on dates with Joonmyeon, hold his hand, kiss him on the cheek in public, not kick him out of bed immediately after sex. He’d even been working up the courage this very night to ask if Joonmyeon wanted to come back to _his_ place tonight, which is huge since Lu Han fucking hates anybody encroaching on his bed space. And he’d never really brought anyone home to meet Yixing as his significant other too; this would’ve been big.

“He said I wasn’t trying hard enough,” Lu Han croaks out in the end. “I didn’t care enough; I was too distant with him.” There’s a faint sting behind his eyelids, and Lu Han huffs noisily into his human pillow, trying to drown out the noise inside his head. Yixing says nothing, but he cards his fingers through Lu Han’s styled hair, slow and softly.

“That’s not true,” Yixing murmurs finally, barely loud enough to be heard over the loud yelling of an enraged mistress on the TV screen. Lu Han brings up a hand to grip tightly at the denim underneath him. “You did your best. I saw you try.”

“For nothing, too, seeing as he dumped my sorry ass,” Lu Han mumbles, unable to keep the self-pity from spilling out.

“Forget him, then. He doesn’t know how lucky he was to have you as a boyfriend,” Yixing says then, rolling Lu Han up so that he faced upward at Yixing’s frowning face. He grabs the hand that Lu Han tries to hide his eyes behind, and sets it down, curling his fingers around it. “I know how much you don’t like showing physical affection in public and doing all those romantic date things; you _tried_ , though, for him. His loss for not knowing how much it actually meant.”

Lu Han averts his eyes, has to stare at the ceiling spot next to Yixing’s head instead of directly at him. The amount of scrutiny is uncomfortable, almost skin-wrenchingly so, but Yixing means well. “Thanks,” he mumbles again, hand clenching around Yixing’s grasp.

Yixing smiles down at him, gentle and small, as if aware of his discomfort, and cards his fingers through Lu Han’s hair once more before twisting away. “Okay, you’re totally checking out of this conversation. That’s fine; I know you have a heart in there, tin man. One day you’ll find someone who’ll see that too.” Lu Han grimaces, but he clings to Yixing’s words.

“Well. Now that feelings time is over, let’s watch something else other than adultery and murder, huh?” Lu Han says after a moment, confident that his voice remains steady. Yixing rolls his eyes and gestures to the screen and the DVD player with permission. Lu Han obligingly rolls off his lap and goes to DVD cabinet under the TV for a new movie to watch.

They sit together on the couch, a few minutes into the movie that Lu Han haphazardly chose and shoved into the DVD player, before Yixing breaks the silence. He touches Lu Han gently on the arm, mindful of his splayed position across the couch, his head pillowed by Yixing’s thighs.

“You remember Rebecca? My high school girlfriend?” he asks quietly, barely loud enough to hear over the chatter of the film dialogue. Lu Han stirs and tilts his head back to stare up at Yixing’s face.

“The one in California?”

“Yeah. That one.” Lu Han waits for him to continue, but Yixing seems to have drifted off, distracted by the sudden explosions on the television screen. He nudges Yixing in the ribs.

“What about her. Did you get back together or something?” Lu Han jokes. Yixing snorts and jostles Lu Han a little for the joke.

“No, shut up.” He waits a beat. “I told you she wanted to wait for me, right?”

Lu Han hums in response, eyes already drifting back to the movie. “Yeah. You said you didn’t want her to and you broke up with her. You’re a good guy, you know, Xing, you care a lot about people—almost too much, maybe.”

Yixing’s silent for a few minutes, and Lu Han thinks the conversation’s over, already settling back against the warmth of Yixing’s lap to properly enjoy the movie.

“That’s not it.”

Lu Han looks back up, fully facing Yixing this time. Yixing’s tone is firm and hard, anchored down to a conviction that Lu Han doesn’t know the answer to. It’s strange. “Tell me, then.”

“I didn’t want her to wait because _I_ didn’t want to wait.” Lu Han frowns. “I’m selfish, you know.”

“This coming from the guy who gave up his lunch last week to a couple of crying kids on the street,” Lu Han counters with an incredulous laugh. “Okay.”

Yixing taps him on the head, and leaves his hand there, fingering strands of Lu Han’s hair. “I got scared.” Lu Han swallows back the snarky comment on his crypticism as Yixing absentmindedly strokes his hair, looking down unseeingly at Lu Han with a frown. “I didn’t want to wait to find out how long I had left in me to love her. If I’d run out of love before she did. I didn’t want to wake up one day and realize this was it; this was all I had left.”

Lu Han tries to find something to say, but Yixing just smiles, a sardonic twist of his lips.

“I don’t think it’s worth it to wait for someone.”

“That—” Lu Han clears his throat, suddenly dry and scratch. “That sounds like something I would say, not you.” Yixing shrugs, still petting his head.

“We all have our faults,” he says, focusing on Lu Han finally and then looking back at the TV screen.

 _But that isn’t one of yours_ , Lu Han doesn’t say.

 

-

 

The day outside is balmy and windy, the first dry day in two weeks and increasingly rare given the fall season. Lu Han’s been going almost stir-crazy with all his piling work and papers; deadlines are inching closer than ever and he feels like he’s going to pop out of his skin. He messages Minseok after he gets out of his morning Etymology class and whines through emoticons until Minseok finally agrees to meet him by the basketball court behind P.S. 130 after lunch. He does a little fistpump in between hurtling himself down the subway stairs when he gets the text back, and then rushes to get through the turnstiles to board the in-station B train home.

Lu Han stops by Paris Sandwich for a grilled pork banh mi and a Paris special, along with an iced coffee and a Vietnamese yogurt because Yixing’s usually home at this time. He walks back to their apartment in brisk steps, mindful of the dripping condensation of his two sealed cold drinks, and climbs up the creaky stairs lightly after letting himself in through the main front door.

He swings open the apartment door with a pleased smile and an invitation to join his and Minseok’s afternoon game on his tongue, but the air inside is uncomfortably still and empty. Only the blaring sirens of a passing squad car downstairs greet him home, filtered in through the window Yixing probably left open this morning and forgot about. He bites his lip, disappointed, but puts it out of mind. Yixing can’t be home all the time, not with the rent they gotta put up with; he’s most likely pulling another shift at the dessert cafe.

Lu Han stashes the Paris special in the fridge for Yixing to eat later, and deliberates on the yogurt drink for a moment before deciding on drinking it himself. It’ll be gross and watery by the time Yixing gets back anyway; he’s being a good friend for saving his roommate from that horror. He sets his bag down in his room and changes into looser shorts and a t-shirt for his game later before coming back out and settling at the kitchen table to eat.

He finishes lunch in about ten minutes, without the distraction of Yixing’s company around to bolster his meal, and cleans up the takeaway bag and crumbs on the wood surface of their table lest Yixing gripe about the mess later. Lu Han hovers over the table for a moment after, fingers tapping away on the wood, before he retrieves his phone from his room and shoots off a text to Yixing about the sandwich in the fridge should he come home before Lu Han. In belated afterthought, he pulls out a post-it pad and writes down the same message and goes back out into the kitchen to stick it on the table in case Yixing forgot his phone again.

Lu Han stands around and tidies up the rest of the kitchen before deciding to head out, nothing else to do. It feels a little strange, without someone to plug out the static noise; Yixing fills up a room a lot more than people think. He grabs his gym bag from his room and the yogurt drink condensing on the table, and takes a last look at the empty space before slipping on his sneakers and leaving through the entrance.

A few seconds later, he comes back in with a grumble and sets down his drink at the shoe shelf by the doorway and goes over to shut the window in the living room. He goes back to the door, takes one last look around and heads out, drink in hand.

 

-

 

Minseok’s already doing lay-ups with the ball he probably stole from Kris’ closet by the time Lu Han walks to the courtyard entrance. Lu Han watches him run up to the basket through the links of the fence and whoops when Minseok makes the basket. He yanks open the gate and strides onto the court with a challenging grin on his face.

“Ready to get your ass whooped?” Lu Han calls out. Minseok makes a rude gesture, lazily dribbling the ball back to the half-court line.

“Psh, as if you can even touch it; this ass is holy,” Minseok throws back with a grin of his own. Lu Han laughs and reaches over to smack it; he dodges the subsequent punch neatly, already used to Minseok’s response. “Hey, you know the rules: dinner and a show before you can touch the goods. Stop trying to jump the line.”

“You know you love it,” Lu Han waves off, throwing down his gear at the side of the fence and taking out a water bottle. “Besides, do you know how many people would beg for an ass-grab from me? You should feel special I do it all for free.”

“Some day, you’re gonna get punched in the face, and I’m gonna be the one laughing,” Minseok says seriously. He drops the face after, canine-grin in place. “Where’s Yixing? I would’ve thought he’d be here too.”

Lu Han shrugs, swigging down water and tossing the bottle back into his bag. “He wasn’t home when I got back; he’s probably at work or something.” He stretches out his arms, linking his fingers together and pulling until he feels the burn in his triceps. Minseok hums in response and goes to do another lay-up while Lu Han finishes warming up.

“Did you ask Kris if he wanted to join? Isn’t he usually free this time of day?” Lu Han calls out as Minseok bounces the ball against the backboard and into the hoop.

“Nah, he had a club thing this morning. I think he’s still in Kimmel,” Minseok replies, catching the ball and going in for a reverse lay-up. Lu Han does one last twist of his waist and stretches back until he feels his backbone pop, and claps his hands.

“Okay, time for some ass-kicking,” he says, putting everything else out of mind.

Minseok tosses him the ball, faces across from him at the half-court line, and Lu Han neatly catches it. He dribbles, does an in-between the legs swoop, and feints right before dribbling left and shouldering past Minseok’s defense, and their game begins.

 

-

 

Yixing’s stirring into a pot at the stove when Lu Han comes back from his date, quietly humming to himself and taste-testing the wooden spoon. He looks up when Lu Han clatters into the foyer, spoon in mouth, and waves in lieu of a verbal greeting.

“What’s cooking?” Lu Han asks, shrugging off his peacoat and unfurling the soft yellow scarf around his throat. He toes out of his shoes carefully and props them back onto the shoe shelf. Yixing pulls out the spoon and stirs it back into the pot without second thought before answering.

“My grandfather gave me another recipe while you were out last night. So we’re having his version of shi zi tou tonight. It’s red-cooked, so it’s gonna be a little saltier than our usual fare. I hope you’re okay with that,” he says with a smile.

Lu Han scratches at the hickeys Baekhyun had left scattered across his collarbone area and hikes up his sweater collar before padding over to the kitchen area. Yixing lifts back up the spoon and offers it in Lu Han’s direction.

“Tasty,” he says after licking the edge of the spoon. “I’m down with it.” Yixing beams at him and turns back to his pot.

“How was your date today? You came back surprisingly early,” Yixing asks. “I thought you’d be gone for at least another five hours and then come stumbling back at 2 in the morning.”

Lu Han makes a face at him and leans against the kitchen table. “You think so little of me, Xing, it hurts a lot to hear you say this.”

Yixing gives him a dead look. “It hurts me to get up at 2 in the morning to open up the door for your drunken ass because you’ve collapsed on the ground again and can’t get back up.”

“One time! And you never let it go!”

“And hopefully, if I keep shaming you, it’ll never happen again,” Yixing smiles cheekily and nods to the blinking rice cooker. “You can eat some rice first if you’re hungry; I have some dishes already done waiting in the microwave.”

“Nah, I’ll wait for you.” Lu Han waits a beat before blurting out what’s been on his mind the whole day. “So, I’ve been thinking.”

“Well, that’s never good.”

“Shut up, that joke’s old and dead.”

“You do always say I have a grandpa’s sense of humor.”

Lu Han rolls his eyes and taps a socked foot against the floorboards. Yixing twists over his shoulder when Lu Han doesn’t return with a wittier repartee.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Go on. What’s wrong?”

“Dating sucks ass.” Yixing blinks at the tersely said response and fully turns around to give Lu Han his full attention.

“Did something happen again? Did Baekhyun do something?” Yixing frowns, furrowing his brows worriedly. Lu Han sighs and waves him down.

“No, it’s just me. Just me and my stupid thoughts. Ignore me.”

“I like hearing your stupid thoughts. Tell me.” Lu Han bites his lip and crosses his arm, thinking how best to string his words together so he doesn’t sound like a sissy baby.

“I feel like I’ve just lost so much interest in other people nowadays, you know?” he says after a while. Yixing keeps his gaze fixed on Lu Han, wordlessly prompting him to continue. “I just. I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel fulfilling anymore. I feel like I’m forcing myself to go through the motions lately with the whole dating thing.”

“Well. Why are you forcing yourself then?” Yixing asks simply. Lu Han scoffs, but Yixing shakes his head, holding off on his response. “No, seriously. Why force yourself to do something you clearly don’t find any enjoyment in? If you don’t want to date anymore, then don’t. No one is keeping you there.”

“I. I—” Lu Han flounders for an answer. Yixing holds his hands up, their go-to gesture of waving a white flag, and turns around just in time to turn off the stove.

“I’m not trying to push you or anything, you know. I just want you to be happy,” Yixing says with finality. “Let’s eat first.”

Lu Han snaps his mouth shut and goes to grab the bowls and rice paddle from the dishwasher. He scoops up rice for the both of them and brings over the bowls to the table while Yixing carefully transports the pot of meatballs with a trivet held between his teeth. Lu Han retrieves the other dishes from the microwave, deeming them still warm enough for immediate consumption.

They eat the meal in relative chatter, staying firmly on mundane topics, as if Yixing’s trying to make up for his earlier pressing, but Lu Han still sits in mild unease the rest of the night.

 

-

 

Kris is tagging along today for Lu Han and Yixing’s Friday night dinner out. It’s not unheard of for their friends to pop in on their dinners, but usually Lu Han would’ve had more warning before he opened the door and found Kris hovering outside in the dusty hallway waiting for them.

“O-oh! You guys are ready! I was just about to knock,” says Kris hastily, patting down the sides of his jeans like he’s looking for something before coming up empty-handed. Lu Han eyes him with a raise of his brows, but lets Yixing gently usher him out the door so he can lock it.

“Y...eah, we’re going out to eat. Are you...coming with?” Lu Han says slowly, turning to look at Yixing in question. Yixing nods with a smile and pockets his key ring before stepping up to Kris with a bigger beam on his face.

“Yeah, I asked Kris to come join us tonight when we ran into each other after ensemble. He said he wasn’t doing anything fun, so I thought it’d be nice for him to hang out with us,” Yixing clarifies, patting Kris on the shoulder before walking down the hall towards the stairs. Lu Han gives Kris a deadpan look but follows after Yixing, leaving Kris to scramble behind them.

“So, uh, where are we going to eat tonight?” Kris asks, trailing behind them. Yixing looks over his shoulder and points at Lu Han.

“He usually makes the choices because he’s the pickiest eater in the world,” Yixing says teasingly, laughing when Lu Han elbows him in the gut.

“Shut up; if I leave decisions to you, you’d be dragging me to an old mahjong café for old people for all I know, and then I’d be wasting my night away watching you give all the old gramps and grannies back massages and getting their tea orders and lighting their pipes.” Yixing snorts and bumps Lu Han with his shoulder.

“What is this, the 1960s? Do I look like a gopher to you?” Lu Han laughs and gives Kris a look, inviting him in on the joke.

“He tries so hard, but you know he turns like jello for the old folk,” Lu Han says pityingly, sarcastically patting Yixing on the shoulder. Kris grins and shrugs.

“I think it’s cute,” he says simply. “My mum would kill for a son like Yixing.”

Lu Han glances at Yixing, hoping to share a judging look, but Yixing is preoccupied, playing with the curls of his hair at the back of his head and pulling at his earlobe. He narrows his eyes and looks back at Kris, who just smiles goofily and ducks his head down. It feels like Lu Han’s been just walled off from the group, suddenly the third-wheel loser in their party when it was his and Yixing’s party in the first place.

“Anyway,” he starts again, after they walk down the three flights of stairs and exit the apartment building into the chilly night air. “We’re eating cheap tonight because I don’t get paid for another week and Yixing blew his last paycheck on his second guitar.”

“It’s my money, and I’m allowed to do whatever I want with it, _dad_ ,” Yixing retorts, rolling his eyes. He shivers a little, only dressed in a light hoodie, tank, and sweats, and Lu Han frowns.

“You—” Kris’ sudden motion cuts him off, and Lu Han watches in surprised silence as Kris takes off his fur-lined jacket and pushes it on Yixing.

“Please wear my jacket. Just looking at you makes me feel like I’m the one shaking,” Kris pleads, and holds it in place around Yixing’s shoulders until Yixing begrudgingly takes it and properly slips his arms through the sleeves.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold then?” Lu Han asks with a raised eyebrow, eying Kris’ knit sweater and jeans outfit. Kris shrugs.

“I run a little warmer than most people. I’ll be fine,” he assures the both of them. “Let’s go to dinner, yeah?”

Yixing notices the expression on Lu Han’s face and pats him on the cheek. “Now you don’t have to nag me about wearing another layer, right?” Lu Han shakes his head, clearing his thoughts, and bares his teeth at Yixing.

“I wouldn’t have to nag if you just actually took better care of your body, dunce,” he says, but links his arm with Yixing’s and drags him down the street, not caring that Kris follows behind. Yixing tilts his head back in a laugh.

“Well, maybe if you bought me nicer stuff, daddy, then I’d actually think about dressing right,” he teases as Lu Han blooms pink.

“Biggest. Jerk. Ever.”

 

-

 

Monday finds Lu Han up to his eyeballs in papers and transcriptions to do for his upcoming midterms. He spends his morning and early lunch hours holed up in the library, furiously scribbling through his notes and replaying segments of speech again and again until he’s sure the sound bites are seared into his brain. He’s thinking about possibly withering away in the basement of Bobst, one of the thousand faceless casualties of NYU’s exam period, but his death is postponed by the beep of a text message from Jongdae around two, asking to eat lunch together.

Lu Han gathers up his stuff quickly and flies out of the library center, eager for sustenance and company that isn’t the pre-recorded voices of his classmates chopped up for vowel and consonant sounds. Jongdae greets him with a smile at the front door of Ennju, after Lu Han runs for the R train and rides the way up to Union Square, and ushers him in, citing hunger pangs. They sit down by the windows, next to the entrance, and bring back a dumpling udon and a curry udon to eat.

“Hey, have you noticed something weird about Kris?” Lu Han asks tentatively, in the middle of his lunch date with Jongdae. He twirls his chopsticks around in his soup broth, feeling a little silly for randomly bringing this topic up out of nowhere.

“What do you mean?” Jongdae asks through a mouthful of half-chewed udon. Lu Han makes a face and flaps his hand at Jongdae for him to swallow before talking, and Jongdae does with mild difficulty. He grabs for a napkin and wipes his mouth before repeating his question.

Lu Han shrugs and shoves a dumpling in his mouth to give him a few seconds time to think. “I don’t know, he just seems really… clingy recently?” Jongdae snorts, the force of his exhalation almost great enough to spill over the water in the cup he’s drinking from.

“You mean with you?” Lu Han makes a face.

“Ew, no, don’t even say that. I’m trying to eat here, please.” Lu Han shoves another dumpling in his mouth before continuing. “No, I mean, with Yixing. He’s been hanging around him a lot. It feels like—”

“Like he has a schoolgirl crush on your best friend? Yeah, I’d say so,” Jongdae cuts in, matter-of-factly, reaching over for Lu Han’s untouched bowl of miso. “It’s not like he’s any bit subtle about it. I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to catch on.”

Lu Han sets his chopsticks down in disbelief. “Wait, you’re serious? What the fuck? Am I the last person to know out of all of us?”

Jongdae shrugs, slurping noisily on his filched soup. “I think that’s Yixing, to be honest, given how he’s been walking around with Kris like a clueless puppy.”

“Wouldn’t the puppy be Kris in this scenario?”

“Yeah okay, nitpicker, but my point still stands.” Jongdae sets down his bowl for a moment and looks at Lu Han, no trace of his regular levity in sight. “But seriously though, if Yixing doesn’t actually like Kris like that, can you clue him in before I throw something at him. I mean, Yixing is my bro, but this is getting ridiculous.”

“What?”

“It’s actually hurting me to see Kris like this, like my very soul is aching. Tell Yixing to let him go and take his puppeteer magic somewhere else because he is messing up with my twelve-step plan right now.”

“ _What._ ” Every _single_ time. Lu Han eats lunch with Jongdae so rarely that he always forgets how hard it is to keep up with Jongdae’s neverending tangents that only he seems to think connect.

“My twelve-step plan, Lu Han, keep up.”

“Your twelve-step plan for what?” Lu Han needs a tylenol.

“For getting into Kris’ pants, duh.” Jongdae continues eating like he didn’t just drop yet another huge bomb on Lu Han right after the other. Lu Han feels his jaw physically dropping, something he’s only ever heard of happening in fiction, but Jongdae makes him do incredible things sometimes.

“I’m sorry, can we just. Stop. Stop for a second so I can fucking process everything you just threw at me.” Jongdae waves a hand imperiously, neatly sipping down his soup, while Lu Han drops his head into his hands and massages at his temples. “Okay. So. Kris has a crush on Yixing. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“You want Yixing to stop stringing Kris along because you want Kris for yourself. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“ _You want Kris for yourself?_ ”

“Didn’t we just establish this?”

“I’m sorry that my mind just refuses to accept the idea that you have a fucking boner for Kris Wu?” Lu Han sounds a little hysterical, admittedly, but this is just a little too much. Jongdae shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“It is what it is, okay. So tell Yixing to step off because he is really harshing on step six right now.”

“Step. Six.”

“Y’know, get senpai to notice me for more than just cheeky wit and great cheekbones.”

“...I’m leaving this conversation and you. Goodbye, Jongdae.” Lu Han pushes away from the table, gathering his empty bowl and used napkins, and makes to throw away his trash.

“Remember to tell Yixing, okay!” Jongdae calls out as Lu Han slips out the door.

 

-

 

Kris does not go away; actually, with the advent of Kris’ confirmed crush on Yixing, it feels like Lu Han cannot stop seeing him _everywhere._ Before, it seemed understandable to find Kris hovering over Yixing’s shoulder when Lu Han meets Yixing for a quick slice at the pizzeria down by 12th St or a latte at Starbucks since Kris and Yixing both go to Steinhardt anyway—and maybe Lu Han’s just being exceptionally paranoid now—but now, it feels like even when Kris doesn’t have any classes or viable excuses to be _near_ Yixing, he’s still there. Hanging around like some awkward spectre of badly hidden pining.

Take Thursday afternoons, for example. Thursday afternoons are when both Yixing and Lu Han are free long enough from their respective schedules to spend the time to unwind from their piling workloads and thankless job hours. They alternate between meeting at the Barnes & Nobles in Union Square or at the Malay restaurant in Chinatown for a late lunch and a couple hours of quiet chatting, but this time is specifically allocated for them and them alone. All their friends know not to join them Thursdays after the first few times of Lu Han nearly biting their heads off for intruding and Yixing quietly frowning at them.

Today, Yixing chooses to meet at the bookstore, and so Lu Han walks into the cafe area, a stack of manga already picked out and ready to read, casually expecting to find Yixing hunched over the latest issue of that weird guitar fanatics club magazine, and stops short of the table Yixing’s currently sitting at. Kris is here.

_Kris is here._

A middle-aged woman pushes by Lu Han, throwing him a dirty look for blocking off the exitway of the cafe pen, and Lu Han hurriedly goes to the table, ears burning a little, and reeling. He dumps the manga onto the table counter and gives Yixing a quick greeting and Kris a look of acknowledgement, and heads for the line behind the cafe counter to readjust. He ignores the confused look Yixing gives him as he passes by, but Lu Han does note very carefully the stricken look of guilt on Kris’ face because _good._ At least someone understands.

While waiting in line, Lu Han talks himself down from the pulsing headache he feels forming at the base of his skull. Kris is well within his rights to do whatever he wants, and if this is how he chooses to express his affections, then Lu Han’s not going to be the bad guy and chase him away. He’s just eager in love, Lu Han reasons with himself, it’s okay.

He gets a panini and a venti caramel macchiato to share between him and Yixing, and turns away from the cashier counter with his tray in hand and placid smile in place. This is going to be like any other hangout; he’ll take Kris aside afterwards and give him a talk, and it won’t happen again. It’ll be fine. He catches Kris’ eye as he walks back, and he smiles benevolently at the intruder, feeling a deep pit of satisfaction when Kris still minisculely shrinks back.

“So, Kris, I didn’t know you’d be joining us today. What an unexpected surprise,” Lu Han says sweetly, setting down his tray and pulling out the empty chair right in between Yixing and Kris to sit down in. Kris coughs and shifts his chair away to make room for Lu Han.

“I found him wandering through the lower levels of Kimmel again, so I thought he could join us and not look like a sad giant haunting the halls of our university,” Yixing offers with a hesitant smile. Lu Han’s face freezes for a second before his smile snaps back into place, but it’s less stiff and more sincere when he looks at Yixing.

“A good thing you saved him from that fate, then,” he says lightly, and both Yixing and Kris visibly relax, assured by the lack of vehement rejection from Lu Han. He grits his teeth, grinding his molars a little, when Kris turns to Yixing in askance for unspoken approval, but smooths out his mouth with his palm as he plucks the coffee cup from his tray and places it in front of Yixing. He creases his eyes when Yixing dimples at him in thanks, and picks up a sandwich half and the top manga of his stack to start reading, choosing to ignore Kris’ presence completely.

They sit in silence for a while, usual routine thrown off-kilter with Kris’ added company, but Lu Han manages to absorb himself into his manga to make up for the lack of conversation. He’s just flipping the page over to find out whether Kiri manages to find the stolen pair of golden scissors when Yixing nudges him gently under the table with a foot.

“Hey, we still on for basketball tomorrow? After lunch?” he reminds, not really expecting an answer. Lu Han’s about to hum noncommittally when a thought in the back of his mind pops back up.

“Wait, oh shit.” He sits up, putting down the book. “I can’t, I forgot to tell you yesterday. I have a TA meeting with one of the students at two, shit. Can we reschedule?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. No worries,” Yixing waves off, patting Lu Han reassuringly on the shoulder. “It’s not like I don’t already see you twenty-four seven; it’ll be a nice change from your ugly mug.”

Lu Han sticks his tongue out in response, ever the mature one, but he slumps back into his seat, less guilty now. Kris looks back and forth at the two of them, and hesitantly brings up a hand, drawing back their attention.

“If you need another person to play with, I’m free tomorrow,” he says slowly, eyes flicking from Lu Han to Yixing. “I can sub in for Lu Han if you don’t mind?”

Yixing looks thoughtful, but Lu Han just wants to throw a brick at Kris’ head and yell at him to leave. He reins in the violent thought, though, and holds back the frown that had popped out immediately at Kris’ offer, choosing instead to make a neutral sound and look away.

“Well, I’m always open to play with people who aren’t Lu Han,” Yixing replies, eyes twinkling, and leaning in over the table. “He’s such an awful sore everything. Can’t take him anywhere, to be honest, he’s worse than a five-year-old.” Kris laughs, bolstered by Yixing’s receptiveness, and Lu Han makes an affronted noise, faded into the background as Yixing and Kris make plans for tomorrow.

“Fine, I’ll just sit here by myself while you guys have fun and exclude me from your little fun club,” Lu Han says petulantly, half-joking. His friends laugh expectedly at him, but that other half of Lu Han is still genuinely irritated and stews for the remainder of the day, long after they part ways and Yixing and Lu Han go back home.

 

-

 

Kris swoops in at the last minute two other times after, when Lu Han can’t make the movie he and Yixing had planned on seeing, and when his linguistics club runs overtime and he can’t walk back home with Yixing from Steinhardt. And Lu Han’s pretty sure he’s just being a bit of a drama queen over it all because Yixing has no problems with the increased Kris exposure, but it just keeps needling at him, bit by bit.

He’s late again to dinner with Yixing today, held up by the ever dependable R train’s inability to move through Manhattan without some sort of accident occurring. So his mood’s already a little fouler than usual, but he’s hoping that dinner out with Yixing will mellow him out by the end of the night.

He unlocks the door, distracted by a sudden snapchat from Minseok, so the door slams open a little harder than he’d intended against the wall. Lu Han looks up with a wince, mouthing an apology to the inanimate door, but the sudden flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye drags away his attention. His jaw drops.

“You’re home,” says Yixing on the couch, blinking owlishly at him. Kris, sitting thigh-to-thigh next him, waves awkwardly, trying to readjust his shirt without being obvious about it. Lu Han squeezes his eyes shut and presses the hand with his phone against his forehead.

“Tell me I did not just see what I thought I just saw,” he begs, a touch desperate. Kris coughs and stands up from the couch.

“Well, uh, I think I’m going to…” He looks imploringly at Yixing who just shrugs, wiping off the corners of his lips. “I think I’ll just go. Uh, see you again some other time, Lu Han?”

Lu Han snatches out his free hand and grabs onto Kris’ mushed collar before he can abscond. “I don’t think so, buddy.”

Yixing snorts from his place on the couch, leisurely pulling back down his sweater from where it had been hiked up, and stands up to drag Kris back into the living room and relative safety.

“....Kris, man? Really?” Lu Han asks, pained and half-hoping for Yixing to shake his head and shout ‘Just kidding!’ like it’s been a three-month-long joke. Yixing nods, though, a touch ruefully and curls his hand around one of Kris’ limp biceps.

“I was gonna tell you today, actually, if you had managed to come home on time,” he offers in consolation. “But you were late, so I thought you’d take a little longer to get back.”

“The N/R trains were being a bitch again,” Lu Han says tiredly, rubbing at his temples. He peeks out through his hands at a discomfited Kris and sighs. “I take it this wasn’t just a one-sided pining thing?”

Kris starts and blushes maroon. “No, uh, I only asked him out recently, actually. He didn’t even realize until I brought it up.” He looks down at the ground and mumbles the next part. “And I wasn’t pining.”

Yixing exchanges pitying looks with Lu Han, and Lu Han snorts, amused. “This is the guy you’ve chosen to touch dicks with?”

“Well, I haven’t actually gotten to that quite yet, but if you wanna come back a little later….” Yixing says teasingly, and laughs when Lu Han’s face contorts. “No, but yes, he is.” He stares intently at Lu Han, dropping the joking tone for a moment. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yixing, you could be fucking a llama for all I care, and I would be okay with it.” They both grimace at the image, and Lu Han hastily backtracks. “Okay, okay, that’s a terrible example, let’s pretend I never said that. But you get my point.” He manages a smile at Kris, who’s watching them both warily, and even means it.

“You take good care of my baby, or I’ll rip your dick off, capiche?”

Kris nods soberly, ignoring the gagging expression on Yixing’s face. “Of course. I’ll treat him like the perfect princess that he is.” Lu Han snorts, then laughs aloud at the offended scoff Yixing lets out.

“I’m gonna smack you both.”

 

-

 

The annoyance doesn’t go away. Lu Han would’ve thought that since Yixing and Kris are now dating, he would be okay with everything now because he _has_ to be. Kris is a great guy, all things considered, and Yixing deserves someone who really likes him a lot—which Kris does, _a lot_. Granted, he would’ve been happier if Yixing had rejected the poor goof and returned them all to normalcy, but Yixing’s happiness matters more. But Lu Han just can’t seem to get rid of this low-grade irritability that comes along in waves every time he sees Kris’ face now or hears Yixing talk about him; it sucks a lot too since Kris is still one of Lu Han’s friends and he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his college career having to fight back the urge to punch in Kris’ face.

There’s no time for deeper exploration of his feelings, though. Right on the heels of Yixing’s new relationship with Kris comes the dreaded final exam period before fall semester finally ends and lets its prisoners go home for winter break. Lu Han spends most of his reading period alternating between Bobst and the linguistics department and taking steady double-shots of espresso to keep himself awake. The day before exams begin, he puts all his books away and heads over to Jongdae’s dorm room because Jongdae’s been spamming him with texts about his third playthrough of Persona 4 all week, and Lu Han needs a break.

Jongdae’s suitemate, Tao, lets him in with a tired grin and a vague wave in the direction of Jongdae’s closed room, and Lu Han slips in with a murmured thanks. He opens the door to Jongdae’s room, calling out a greeting, and finds Jongdae hunched on the ground two feet from his television screen, intently moving his joystick around. The screen shows the main group of characters running through the steamy halls of Kanji’s bathhouse, and Lu Han makes a noise before closing the door after him and sliding down next to Jongdae.

“What floor is this?” he asks curiously, watching Jongdae engage in a Shadow battle with a Pursuing Pesce.

“Fifth floor. I’m grinding right now,” Jongdae mumbles, fingers flying through his buttons. “How’s studying?”

Lu Han groans and thumps his head back against the mattress behind them. “I feel like I can probably puke out the entire IPA in formant levels by now. And probably perform surgery on your throat with how grossly acquainted I am now with the vocal tract.” He looks back up at the screen and then at Jongdae’s controller consideringly.

“Hm, that’s good, at least—whoa, hey! What are you—hey, get off—Lu Han, oh my fucking—get off me!”

Lu Han emerges from his impromptu scuffle victorious, with Jongdae’s controller in his possession and Jongdae himself as his newfound butt pillow. “There we go, now life’s all fair and better. You just sit there and let me play for a little while, okay, rest your poor eyes.”

Jongdae wriggles underneath him and wails obnoxiously loud when Lu Han won’t budge. “Oh come _on_ , Lu Han, get off me, you’re a fucking hippo on my delicate bone structure! And give me back my game, I’m trying to play the perfect playthrough right now!”

“Relax, man, I got this,” Lu Han assures him, patronizingly patting his butt. Jongdae huffs out indignantly but settles down, letting Lu Han play through without disturbance.

“So….,” Jongdae says, muffled by the carpet under his chin. Lu Han hums to show his attention, casually navigating the main character into a room with a treasure chest. He neatly avoids the Shadow blob swinging for him and opens up the chest quickly, pocketing a Peach Seed, and swerves his joystick around to sidestep the accelerating Shadow.

“So?” Lu Han prompts when Jongdae trails off without more to say, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.

“How goes on the Kris front? Has Yixing finally told him to step off yet? Can I swoop in and comfort his broken heart and make him fall in love with my dashing good looks and heart of gold yet?” Jongdae asks brightly after a beat. His body’s tense, though, under Lu Han’s weight, belying the nonchalance coloring his voice. Lu Han spares a moment from the screen to glance down at him.

“How invested are you in this twelve-step plan of yours?” Lu Han asks slowly, a slow crawl of unease going up his spine. He feels Jongdae shift his shoulder blade up in a shrug. “Like do you just wanna get into his pants for fun, or y’know, do you wanna like _date_ him?”

“...I mean, my twelve-step only ends with senpai falling madly in love with me and my giant dick, but I don’t mind holding hands with him or anything,” Jongdae hedges, mumbling at the end.

Lu Han presses the wrong button and ends up getting slammed by the pair of Dancing Hands that creeped up on him. He stares unseeing at the screen as the Shadows attack Yukiko and Chie in succession, quietly dying inside his mind, and tries to think of a way to break the news to Jongdae gently.

“I’m taking it the silence means bad things for me,” Jongdae says wryly, twisting his back over so that he can face Lu Han. Lu Han doesn’t hide the instinctive wince fast enough, and Jongdae sighs dramatically, flopping himself back against the carpet floor. “Give it to me straight, doc. Am I gonna live through the night?”

“Depends, I guess. They’re, uh, going out, actually,” Lu Han says carefully, pausing the game to gauge his friend’s reaction. Jongdae is quiet for a minute before snorting and slumping back onto the ground.

“Damnit. I got Hanazawa Rui-ed, ugh. Don’t look at me right now, Lu Han, my shame’s too great for human eyes,” he whines into the carpet. Lu Han barks out a laugh and gets off of Jongdae to sprawl on the ground next to him.

“Does that make Yixing Domyouji because, I mean, he’s got the curls to match but definitely not the personality,” Lu Han teases. He rubs Jongdae’s back sympathetically as Jongdae whines again, muffled by the carpet fibers.

“Well, he’s the main villain in my love story right now, okay, so he can just deal,” Jongdae grumbles, shifting his face so Lu Han can see the pout on his face.

“Actually, you feel more like an Ando than a Rui to me,” Lu Han says thoughtfully, tapping his chin. Jongdae scoffs and rolls over onto his back. “You do! And I mean, it’s a lot more palatable to think of Kris as an overeager Ninako than a plucky Makino.” He pauses. “Okay, well, the thought of Kris as the shoujo heroine in your story right now is actually as appealing as peeling toenails, but if I had to choose, y’know.”

“Then what does that make you, huh?” Jongdae asks, side-eying him. “Because you’re definitely second lead male material; you’re Kris’ rival in love, after all.”

Lu Han sputters and sits up in incredulity. “What do you mean, rival in love? And excuse you, I am obviously main male lead; have you seen this face?”

Jongdae snorts and pats his thigh patronizingly. “Sure you are, Fuwa Shou. Sure you are.” Lu Han sputters again, but lets Jongdae pull him back down. “Now back to me and my tragic love story, okay. I don’t have time to deal with your Tamaki-grade obliviousness right now.”

Lu Han mouths the words ‘Tamaki-grade obliviousness’ in disbelief, but puts it out of mind when Jongdae starts whining again.

 

-

 

His annoyance flares back up later that night when he gets home and finds Yixing cuddling into Kris’ arms in front of the television. Yixing greets him cheerfully and asks him to join them at the couch to watch the movie Kris had rented, but Lu Han begs off with a smile and heads into his room with a parting ‘good night’. He stares at his bed for a minute before collapsing on it, too lazy to change into pajamas, and closes his eyes.

Just before he drifts off to sleep, Jongdae’s words swim back into the front of his mind. His eyes snap back open, the same time Yixing’s and Kris’ laugh filter through the walls of his room.

Second lead male, indeed.

 

-

 

There’s a tickling in his throat. Lu Han doesn’t want to say it—or even think it—aloud because he does _not_ have the time for this, but the tickle won’t go away. He coughs lightly, tries to edge his glottis away, but the tickle takes the chance to morph into a full frog, and he ends up choking and hacking ungracefully onto his printouts and having to shadily wipe the mess away with a sleeve.

He begs off work early that morning, apparently looking pitiful enough in his bundle of scarves and miserable expression to touch the stone heart of his professor, and walks back home because he was stupid enough to leave the house without his metrocard and wallet today. Might as well get the full package deal, Lu Han thinks to himself, shivering in his five layers of sweaters and jackets. The wind is particularly strong today, and blows heavily down on his uncovered head, quickly turning the tips of his ears into flesh icicles. He tries to walk a brisker pace, but his legs refuse to cooperate with every further step he takes.

He reaches their apartment in another thirty minutes, huffing for breath and almost shaking out of his skin in the cold air. He clambers up the flights of stairs with difficulty, already winded by the walk home; his New Year’s resolution should’ve been to work out at the gym more, not his usual bullshit crock about being a better person for the new year.

It takes Lu Han three tries to get the key into the lock right, with his fingers so unbearably stiff and dead, but he finally gets in and has to take a moment to revel in the moderately warmer temperature of the building compare to the tundras outside. He kicks off his shoes and drops his backpack right next to his boots, and flings himself onto the couch for a quick nap, not even bothering to take off any of his layers or going into his room to sleep.

He wakes up to a considerably darker room, with the only light coming from the watery glow of the kitchen bulbs, and at least twenty degrees warmer than he had gone to bed feeling. He blinks and sits up, feeling the extra weight on his chest slip down into his lap. It takes a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the little light, but Lu Han recognizes the material as the throw blanket Yixing kept in his room for colder nights. He smacks his lips, feeling the slimy feeling of accumulated sickness in the back of his throat, and grimaces.

“You’re up,” says Yixing softly, walking over to the couch while drying his hands with a hand-towel. Lu Han looks up at him blearily, eyes watering a little. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just got ran over a dozen times by a vindictive tow-truck,” he croaks. His head throbs with each word he voices. “I think I’m sick.”

“Nothing gets past you, huh,” Yixing jokes, but rounds the couch to sit at the couch arm and feel Lu Han’s forehead. “You’re burning up, though.”

Lu Han groans and falls back down onto the couch. He immediately regrets the decision when the sudden movement triggers a wave of intense dizziness. “Goddamnit, how is it always me who gets sick? What kind of immune system do you _have_?”

“The luck of the draw, I guess.” Yixing helps him back up into a sitting position and rearranges the blanket, tucking it around him. “Here, I’m gonna get you some water and then I’ll help you back to your room, okay?” He goes back into the kitchen to pour a cup of water and comes back.

“I’m not an invalid, Xing, don’t treat me like a baby,” Lu Han says petulantly, but lets Yixing press the mug into his hands. He takes a sip to clear his throat, and then a bigger gulp.

“I started some zhou, if you’re feeling hungry. It’ll be done in another few minutes,” Yixing says, watching Lu Han slowly drain his cup. He laughs at the grimace Lu Han gives him and ruffles his hair softly. “I know you hate it, but it’s good for you, okay. Don’t be the gigantic baby that you clearly are.” He takes the mug away when Lu Han’s finished. “I put pork in it, just like how you like it, if that’s any incentive.”

“If I didn’t think I’d collapse from moving, I would push you off this couch right now,” Lu Han grumbles. He snuffles and rubs at his throat. “Do we have any tylenol in the house? I feel like my head’s gonna fall off.”

“...Ah. No, I think we ran out.” Yixing frowns. “Okay, here, I’ll help you back to your room and then go out for it, sound good? You can take another nap while you wait.”

Lu Han grunts and pushes himself off the couch, but almost falls back down immediately before Yixing catches him. “Ugh, fine, okay.” Yixing throws an arm around him and nudges Lu Han to lean back into him as he starts leading them back to Lu Han’s room.

“Here we go, nice soft bed for you to sleep on. Ah, wait,” Yixing stops Lu Han from flopping straight onto the mattress. “Let’s get you out of these layers first.”

“Why, Yixing, how forward of you,” Lu Han jokes, snickering when Yixing rolls his eyes and swats him. “I mean, taking advantage of a vulnerable boy like me and everything. If you wanted to get into my bed, you didn’t have to pretend to take care of me, baby, my bed’s always open for you.”

“I’m gonna muzzle you,” Yixing deadpans, carefully slipping off the thick down jacket and hoodie from Lu Han’s arms. He steadies Lu Han when he staggers back, and pulls off the wool sweater from his body, taking care to not mush Lu Han’s hair too much when pulling it off his head. “Besides, my bed’s much more comfortable than your rock mattress.”

“Don’t diss my comfy haven, I’m a sick man, I’m too weak to fight you,” Lu Han says, swaying a little on the spot, holding out his index finger in warning. Yixing huffs out a laugh and pushes him down onto the bed, tucking his body under the sheets.

“Okay, little baby, sleep tight. I’ll be back with your happy pills in a bit, okay,” Yixing says, after he’s done tucking the blankets around Lu Han. He turns to leave, but Lu Han manages to catch him by the sleeve before he’s gone too far.

“Hey, don’t forget to turn off the stove, okay. Please don’t let me die in this burning building because you forgot _again_ , I’ll haunt your ass until eternity, okay,” Lu Han says seriously. Yixing blinks as the realization dawns on him and smiles sheepishly.

“Whoops. Yeah, I’ll get that before I leave. Okay, go to sleep now,” he says, patting Lu Han’s hand. Lu Han coughs, but keeps his grip on Yixing. “What? Do you need anything else?”

“No—ugh, god, I hate being sick—uh, no, I just. Thanks,” Lu Han says after his chest stops spasming, looking up at Yixing with a rueful grin. “Thanks a lot.” He pretends to cough again and pushes Yixing away. “Okay, go away, I need my beauty sleep.”

 

-

 

Lu Han wakes up to a gentle shaking, feeling ten times crappier than when he’d gone to bed, and scrunches open his eyes. He makes out the blurry double-image of Yixing’s face hovering above his, and blinks to refocus.

“Hey, sorry to wake you up,” Yixing whispers. Lu Han thinks he garbles something back, but he’s not quite sure. “I just wanted you to take your pills before you sleep through the night. How are you feeling, by the way?”

“I want to die,” he manages to mumble through uncooperative lips. Yixing lets out a quiet laugh and helps him upright. “Noooo, don’t move me, it was much better down, let me down.”

“After your pills, okay,” Yixing assures, holding up a cold cup to his lips. “Drink a sip first before you take your pills.” He waits for Lu Han to follow his instructions and then presses a pill to his lips.

Lu Han opens his mouth without protest and swallows down the pill with another gulp of water from the cup Yixing brings back. “Am I dead yet?”

“Not if I can help it. Okay, you can lie back down now,” Yixing snorts, slowly laying Lu Han back into a prone position. A beeping noise suddenly filters in the air, and Lu Han looks wearily at Yixing, vision half covered by his pillow.

“That your phone?” he asks, quickly slipping back into sleep. Yixing makes an affirmative noise, but doesn’t make any moves to take it out. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

“Not right now,” Yixing smiles, pulling his sheets back up around his chin. “Go back to sleep.”

Lu Han falls back asleep before he hears the last sentence.

 

-

 

The end of January creeps up without any more mishaps. Lu Han bounces back after a week of being bedridden without falling too far behind on classes with Minseok kindly bringing him class notes and Yixing playing the go-between for him and his professors.

He doesn’t actually register the coming date of Lunar New Year, even as the store vendors bring out the red banners and myriad of decorations for the new year, until Yixing points it out one night while watching TV.

They go to the firecracker ceremony on Friday because miraculously, Lu Han’s phonology professor decides to be culturally aware and give them the day off for the Lunar New Year, even though only ten people in their forty-person class are Asian. (The trade-off is a 50-page reading on another one of their professor’s tedious published papers, but gift horses and all. Especially fitting this year.)

Lu Han hasn’t ever actually seen one of these in person before. In elementary school, he’d spend hours pouring over glossy photos of past lion dances paraded throughout Chinatown and watch live broadcasts on their shoddy television with his parents and grandmother. After his parents’ split and his subsequent move into the suburbs with his mother, there hadn’t really been a point (nor a local channel to witness the yearly celebration).

The parade this year isn’t until Sunday, even though Friday is actually the start of the Lunar New Year. Yixing has rehearsals on Sundays with the orchestra, though, so the original plan to go see the dances was regretfully scrapped for a consolation dinner—Lu Han’s treat. But Lu Han’s sudden free schedule opened up for them to actually make it in time for the starting ceremony to the new year, and so.

They get there thirty minutes after the ceremony officially opens, completely taken aback by the hoards of Chinese folk crowding around Sara Roosevelt Park and the still-present clouds of smoke hanging in the clear winter air. The firecrackers are still going off, surrounded by billows of smoke in the fenced-off area of the courtyard of the park, and Lu Han drags Yixing closer into the crowds of people standing outside of it for a better look.

Lu Han manages to squeeze them into a spot around the upper railing of the park square, thanks to a couple of disgruntled white folks leaving their perch. He pushes by them and overhears a snippet of their conversation in his bid for the open space.

“What a disappointment!”

“I thought it was gonna be like actual fireworks and shit,” sneered another.

Lu Han almost stops in his tracks, but makes do with a massive snarl of disgust at their backs before elbowing his way to the railing. Yixing doesn’t say anything, but he bumps shoulders with Lu Han and smiles sardonically at him until Lu Han rolls his eyes and smiles back.

In truth, the firecrackers themselves are not very flashy and impressive, but Lu Han finds he doesn’t actually care that much. There’s a buzzing in the air, separate from the very pops of the firecrackers, that sends a thrill down his spine. So many families crowd next to him and around the square, holding up their toddlers and their phones and cameras for a closer look at the festivities, and elders stand around in the bitter cold, proudly watching as the crackers welcome them into a new year.

“It’s a great feeling, isn’t it?” Yixing’s voice murmurs into his ear, lips brushing against his lobe. Lu Han pushes back the shiver that instinctively runs down his body and nods enthusiastically, staring gleefully at the crush of people around them.

“It’s so cool,” he says lamely, unable to find the words to describe just how _cool_ it is. Yixing laughs, though.

“I haven’t been to one of these ceremonies since I left China, to be honest,” Yixing confesses, his already quiet voice near inaudible against the crackers. Lu Han edges even closer to him to hear. “I think I forgot almost everything that happens.”

“Well, at least you’re starting on a new blank slate with me,” Lu Han says with a light nudge. Yixing giggles.

“I like to think I know more than you, at least,” he says tartly. “Don’t put me down to your level just yet.”

“Those are fighting words, man,” Lu Han says, mock-offended. “Don’t make me start out the new year with a new best friend.”

“Like you could live a day without me.” The crackers start dying down now, and Yixing links his arms with Lu Han’s and starts dragging him away from the ledge.

“Excuse you, I’ve lived eighteen years without you in my life, I can certainly start again,” Lu Han says, grabbing Yixing’s neck and giving him a gentle noogie. Yixing lets it happen and takes back Lu Han’s arm when he lets go, dragging him to the stretch of booths lining the pathway around the park.

“Lu-ge, will you buy me some lunch,” Yixing asks cutely, adopting a higher pitch to voice his request. Lu Han almost unhinges his jaw in his responding laugh and swats him on the chest.

“Only if you promise never to use that voice again,” he says, queuing them up on the line for food. Yixing blinks innocently at him and tilts his head in askance.

“But calling you Lu-ge is okay, huh? Or should that be daddy? Will you feed me, daddy?”

Lu Han almost chokes when the woman in front of them turns back with an incredulous look and frantically shakes his head at her until she turns around with a sniff. Yixing’s clinging onto him for support, almost on his knees in hysterical laughter.

“Just for that, I’m going to feed you cockroaches,” Lu Han hisses, bright red and mortified. Yixing pays him no mind, still lost in mirth. “Biggest jerkface ever in the history of jerkfaces.”

“Aw, but you love me anyway, daddy,” Yixing replies after his laughter dies down, wiping away tears.

“I will leave you on the streets, you ass,” Lu Han mumbles, and punches him in the gut. Yixing beams at him through his wheezes.

 

-

 

After a quick lunch of fried rice and sweet and sour chicken eaten while walking around the small park, they stop back at the park square, watching on the outskirts as the courtyard fills up with performers and spectators wanting a better look. There’s a group of women coming onto the court now, in ornate dresses with exceptionally long sleeves, and the crowds part around them to give them space to perform.

They stand, clapping in time to the music, next to a family of four, a boy and a girl asking to go up further to the ledges to see the dancing properly. Yixing glances at Lu Han, who just smiles indulgently in acquiescence, and approaches the parents. The parents look taken aback for a moment, but allow the girl to take Yixing’s hand after Yixing’s serious words.

Lu Han watches Yixing hoist the giggling little girl up onto his shoulders, half-worried for his waist and half-amused. He goes to stand by the oak tree, waving Yixing away as he turns back with a questioning look, and gestures for the two to go closer to the railings with a smile.

There’s a small ball of contentment in his gut, a warm feeling that spreads from his curled up frozen toes to the tips of his equally frozen fingers. Lu Han wraps his arms around in a self-embrace, offhandedly berating himself for choosing a peacoat instead of a smarter down jacket, and he watches with a fondness sweet on his tongue as the people around him swirl in raucous cheers and firesnaps.

Yixing’s dancing with the little girl now, movements exaggerated and flourished, in time with the pounding drums of the dancing women on the outdoor basketball court, and Lu Han can only laugh at the serene expression on his face and the giddy one on the girl’s.

He’s got something, a dull roaring in his ears, trying to tell him a secret that Lu Han can’t hear over all the noise. He knows, faintly, that his body’s trying make him listen, can not-quite feel his feet at the edge of a unknown precipice, but at the moment, all Lu Han can see is the color red and Yixing’s bright dimples.

 

-

 

NYU is fucking with them, Lu Han swears to the high heavens. The second time a snowstorm has hit the city, with huge flurries coming down and slowing down everyone, and the university still refuses to shut down for even just one day. He could set the administration on fire.

He trucks home, lamenting the state of his shoes and still grumbling over the stalling of both the N and R trains, and clunks back into the apartment with a loud put-upon sigh. The apartment is empty again today, and Lu Han deflates, his hope to be able to let off steam by complaining to Yixing dashed.

He sighs again, quieter, and shuffles in, taking off his shoes and shedding his layers. He leaves the pile of clothes on the couch, content to deal with them later, and goes into the kitchen for a glass of water. A scrap of paper on the kitchen table catches his eye, and he redirects himself to the table instead.

> I hope the snow didn’t bury you today; it’d suck for me to have to look for a new roommate! ( ´△｀) I’m gonna be out until at least 10 tonight! Gotta go practice for my jury; I must be perfect (ง •̀_•́)ง There’s some sweet bean soup in the fridge for you, and you can heat up the leftovers from last night. Don’t be too much of a grouch today! Lu Han 加油!

Lu Han feels his face creasing and wrinkling with the smile that Jongdae always likes to say makes him look like a ninety-year old raisin, but he can’t help it. His grouchiness has completely disappeared. He puts down the note and goes to the fridge for his precious bean soup, his disgusting day flipped around with just a few words from Yixing and some food.

 

-

 

The Sunday morning of Yixing’s first jury exam, Lu Han gets up an hour early to make breakfast. He sneaks out his room as quietly as possible, and furtively glances around the living area and kitchen to make sure Yixing’s not up yet, puttering around and ruining his plans. Satisfied with his absence, Lu Han strides into the kitchen area, determined to wake him up with something nice.

He opens the refrigerator as quietly as he can and peers inside, chewing on his lip. Yixing has the whole fridge stocked to brim with groceries, but Lu Han’s never really touched anything besides the user-friendly milk jug and luncheon meat packs. He reaches confidently for the carton of eggs, though, assured in his night-long researching on omelette recipes, and pulls them out—forgetting that the lid wasn’t on and that one actually needed to balance a full carton of eggs in hand if they were gonna hold it.

Half the batch immediately plummets onto the ground, and with it, Lu Han’s hopes of a nice send-off breakfast.

“Fuuuuuck,” he breathes out, staring down listlessly at the smashed yellow yolks and white eggshells. He looks at the half-empty carton still in hand with betrayal and slowly stuffs it back into the fridge, burning ambition already doused with immediate setback. Lu Han quietly cleans up the floor with a damp towel and throws away the mess before reopening the fridge for the milk jug. Cereal it is.

When Yixing shuffles out of his room, yawning widely and scratching at his bedhead, he finds Lu Han perched at the kitchen table, twiddling his thumbs, and looking at Yixing with a hopeful expression. A bowl of dry granola and a glass of milk sit across from him, spoon and napkin set out, and a banana on the side. He stops in his tracks and stares back.

“What’s this?” he asks, a growing grin on his face. Lu Han shrugs, a little self-conscious, and looks down at his fingers.

“It’s just breakfast,” he mumbles. “It’s not rocket science.”

Yixing sits down, dimples smiling at him. “For you, it might as well be,” he jokes, but lets it go with the baleful stare from Lu Han. “Thanks, though. This was really sweet of you.”

Lu Han coughs and waves it off. “Yeah, okay, enough with the feelings, just eat your damn breakfast and get out of here.”

Yixing rolls his eyes but eats, pouring the milk into his bowl and spooning the granola into his mouth. Lu Han props his cheeks up with his fists, content to just watch. Yixing notices and picks up the banana, poking Lu Han in the arm with it.

“You going to class today?”

Lu Han hums. “In a little bit, yeah.”

Yixing peels the banana and splits in half, taking the top half and pressing the bottom with peel still intact into Lu Han’s hands. “Here. You should eat something too, then, or you’ll text me and whine about it to me while I’m waiting for my jury and distract me.”

Lu Han twitches a grin in thanks, and watches as Yixing finish the last of his granola and milk and shoves the banana half in after he swallows his first mouthful. He stays at the table while Yixing leaves to go get dressed, nibbling at his half of the banana, and waits for Yixing to come back out, in far too little clothing for 20 degree weather.

He comes up to Yixing, grabbing a stray scarf lying on the couch and reels him in, wrapping it tightly around Yixing’s exposed collarbones and covering the lower half of his face. “You never learn to dress properly, you giant doofus.” He feels Yixing’s shoulders trembling in laughter under his hands, and swats him on the head. “Don’t laugh; you _will_ get sick one day, mark my words.”

“Don’t curse me like that, daddy, I thought you loved me,” Yixing says, muffled under the layers of wool, and Lu Han considers pulling the ends of his scarf down to choke him.

“Get out of here, you hooligan,” he responds, swatting Yixing on the butt this time and pushing to the door.

Yixing slips on his boots and adjusts his backpack straps, and waves at Lu Han before opening the door, and Lu Han feels something click in his brain.

“Hey—” he blurts out, just as Yixing closes the door behind him.

Hey.

I love you.

 

-

 

It feels sort of like a dam broke, but at the same time, nothing’s changed. He sees Yixing the night he comes back from jury, and he’s expecting to hear some sort of heavenly choir erupt at Yixing’s appearance, but it’s the same old Yixing. The same old curly-top, the deep dimples, the dark eye-bags under his eyes from his constant late-night practicing; the only thing that greets him is Yixing’s soft voice and a plain pie he’d brought back for them to share.

He doesn’t think about it, but the thought just slams itself into his mind throughout the day. He walks down the sidewalk to get a bag of clementines because Yixing ate them out of the last three crates _again_ , and he just thinks ruefully to himself, _what a doof._ And minutes later, his ears will burn and his heart will seize up in his throat because he remembers, _oh. Oh, I like him._ The feeling won’t stop.

He goes to class and sits in the back of the class, doodling little creatures in the margins while taking down notes on morphophonemic analysis, and when it’s time to leave, he notices that all the doodles are variations of that stupid curly-top smiley that Yixing likes to leave around as his signature. (On a whim, he goes back through the other pages of his notes, and finds the same smiley peeking out in the corners of random pages. He has to sit there in the empty lecture room for the next few minutes, too mortified to move.)

Lu Han goes out with Minseok for a cruise down Broadway because Minseok’s sister’s birthday’s coming up, and he finds himself stopping in front of a dusty old music store, wedged between a hipster coffee shop and a Zara which Minseok goes into. There’s a miniature guitar sitting in the window front, faded red and chipping, but Lu Han thinks of Yixing immediately. He automatically checks for the price, and when the realization of what he’s doing hits him, he blushes maroon and forces himself to walk away to join Minseok.

(When they come back out and pass by the music shop, Lu Han makes Minseok wait for him while he trips inside the store and buys the damn guitar. The sleepy cashier boy checking his purchase doesn’t make a comment about his flustered appearance, but Lu Han feels more than enough self-consciousness for the both of them. He hides the purchase in his closet when he gets back, facepalms whenever he catches sight of it peeking out.

Yixing never finds out.)

 

-

 

Yixing’s strumming away at his guitar in his room again today, when Lu Han comes home from work. There’s the melodic chatter of the Sino radio station being played over the whirring hum of their radiator, and the reedy tenor of Yixing’s voice floating in from the recesses of his space.

“Honey, I’m home,” Lu Han calls out with a wide grin, slipping off his backpack and shoes. He shakes the snowflakes from his hair and flicks back his bangs away from his eyes. He’s gonna need a haircut soon. The strumming stops, but the singing doesn’t, growing closer in volume as Yixing sticks his head out first, then the rest of himself from his room.

“Ni wen wo aiiiii, ni you duo sheeeeen, wo ai ni youuu ji feeeen,” he sings, his tremolo drawing out his vowels. He draws close to Lu Han, half-swaying, half-dancing, eyes pressed closed, immersed in the song. Lu Han laughs and pushes him away with a gloved hand, but Yixing snatches it and pulls him in.

“Oh my god, you loser, what are you doing,” Lu Han tries to say, but his helpless laughter wins out. Yixing grins at him, opening his eyes and peeking from his lashes, and latches his arms around Lu Han’s waist and shoulder in a waltz position.

“Wo de qing bu yiiiii, wo de ai bu biaaaaan,” he continues, swaying Lu Han around the living room without a care. “Yue liang dai biao wo de xiiin.”

It’s a familiar song, even with Yixing’s exaggerated singing, and Lu Han can’t help but relax into Yixing’s arms as he twirls around, listening as Yixing curls his tongue around the words of a language half known to Lu Han. He hums to the tune, nestling his head a little into the crook of Yixing’s neck, and takes care not to blow air over his collarbones.

“Qing qing de yi ge wen, yi jin da dong wo de xin,” Yixing sings, lower now and softer in volume. He moves both his arms to Lu Han’s waist and trades the livelier waltzing for a soft sway in place. “Shen shen de yi duan qing, jiao wo si nian ru ji.”

Lu Han feels the small hairs of his neck prickle as the song swells down and then back up again, and his cheeks burn extra heat in the relative warmth of Yixing’s arms. That feeling’s clicked back on in his head, and the extreme proximity and the lyrics of the song—which even he, bilingually-challenged as he is, is aware enough to know is a love song—are making him flushed and all-too conscious of what Yixing means to him.

Yixing notices the sudden stiffness, though, and smiles gently at Lu Han before drawing his arms away, allowing him his space. His singing tapers off, and they stand across each other, Yixing’s gaze fixed on Lu Han and Lu Han too embarrassed to look straight at him.

“Welcome home,” Yixing says after a beat. “Did you have a good day today?”

The innocuous question clicks Lu Han back into motion, relieved by the reappearance of routine, and he looks back up with a small smile.

“Same old, same old. Could do without this fucking snow, though,” he says with a shrug, and Yixing nods sympathetically, moving aside into the kitchen so Lu Han can head into his room to change. He comes back out with his down jacket shed and sits at the kitchen table to watch Yixing putter around. “How about you?”

“Hm, we were doing a unit on music history in China during the twentieth century, and someone brought up Teresa Teng. So I did a medley of her songs when I got home,” Yixing replies, taking out a pot from the cupboards.

“Oh! My mom used to listen to her a lot,” Lu Han points out once the name sinks in. “No wonder that song sounded so familiar.”

“Yeah, this is like one of her most famous songs,” Yixing teases. “Even an American-born like you should know it.” Lu Han kicks his leg out to hit him in the shin, but Yixing just sidesteps him and goes for the fridge. “Do you know what the song’s about?”

“Uh...something about love and the moon, that’s all I got,” Lu Han says sheepishly, drawing back his leg. Yixing laughs.

“About the gist of it, I guess. Go do your homework or something; dinner should be ready in an hour or two,” he says, waving Lu Han away. Lu Han rolls his eyes, but gets up anyway.

“Okay, _mom_ ,” he says snippily, dodging the dishtowel Yixing throws at his back with a snicker. “Cook me something tasty!”

“I’ll cook _you_ for dinner,” Yixing calls out. He starts humming the song again, and Lu Han manages to catch him singing another snippet under his breath before he goes back in his room.

“Ni qu xiang yi xiang, ni qu kan yi kan, yue liang dai biao wo de xin.”

 

-

 

Yixing’s in the middle of chopping up chives when Lu Han bursts out of his room, a little frazzled-looking. He looks up, confused frown pulling down the corners of his lips, and Lu Han doesn’t think about how ridiculously adorable he looks because there’s a bigger issue at hand.

“What’s wrong? Did you forget your phone at the office again?” Yixing asks, furrowing his brows in consternation. Lu Han shakes his head, working his jaw a little to find the appropriate words.

“You, uh, you—” Right, no, this isn’t the right way to go about it. He goes back into his room, leaving Yixing staring blankly after him. He pinches the bridge of his nose, paces a little in front of his door, trying to put together a sentence that won’t sound as offensive as it does in his mind. He hears the thok of Yixing’s knife against the chopping board start again, and Lu Han takes a big gulp of air for strength.

He comes out of his room again and clears his throat, drawing Yixing’s attention away from his chopping board again. Yixing looks at him expectantly, a bit of worry still marring his face.

Lu Han’s mind blanks. “Uh…. Where’s Kris?” he asks, scrambling for a coherent sentence. Yixing stares at him for a moment, blank, then blinks.

“Oh. I guess he’s in the dorm right now?” Yixing offers, a questioning lilt at the end of his answer. “Did you need something from him?”

“N-no, I mean.” Lu Han exhales in agitation. “I mean, _where’s Kris?_ I haven’t seen him around lately?”

Yixing blinks again and tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Hm. I guess you’re right.” He doesn’t offer anything else in response, and turns back to the chopping board, dumping his cut chives into a bowl and grabbing for a bulb of garlic.

Lu Han gapes at his back and apparent dismissal. “Is—Is something wrong? Are you guys having a fight or something?” he asks hesitantly. Yixing freezes in motion for a second but continues shelling cloves from the bulb.

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Yixing looks over his shoulder, sudden secretive smile dimpling across his face. “Are you trying to ask me something, Lu Han?”

Lu Han splutters, flustered and annoyed at being called out. Yixing snickers, and props a hand on his hip. “W-what—I just—”

“I can’t answer if you don’t ask me,” Yixing singsongs, smile growing. Lu Han scowls at him and makes a strangling gesture, but loosens up his shoulders and plops down at the table.

“Fine, asshole. Excuse me for trying to be a sensitive friend. Are you and Kris still dating?” Lu Han grinds out. Yixing claps his hands patronizingly at him.

“There now, was that so hard?” Yixing says approvingly. Lu Han sticks his tongue out at him in response.

“Just tell me, you giant dick.”

“Wow, that’s definitely going to make me wanna answer your question,” Yixing shoots back, creasing his eyes in jest. He starts smashing garlic cloves, turning his back around. “But no, we’re not dating anymore.”

Lu Han gapes again, more for the flippancy of Yixing’s response than his actual answer. “Wait, but what? Why? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Yixing assures him, looking over his shoulder. “Contrary to what the media tells us, not everything has to be a big gigantic fight or a dramatic break-up. Sometimes, things just don’t work out.”

“So, wait, was this, like, a mutual thing? Did he dump you? Did you dump him? What _happened_?”

Yixing starts mincing his cloves, swinging his knife down in a pendulum motion across his board. “Well, I guess I dumped him if you want to split hairs.” Lu Han bites back an impatient demand for more detail. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“What did you say to him, though?” Lu Han presses, unable to hold back his curiosity. Yixing puts down his knife at that and turns to face him straight-on.

“I told him I couldn’t do it because I like somebody else,” he says slowly and clearly. Lu Han’s insides clench up.

“Y-you do?”

Yixing shrugs, secret smile back on his face. “Yeah, I do. I like them a lot.”

“...Do they like you back?”

“I don’t know. I’m still waiting for them to catch up.”

His insides are swirling right now. Yixing doesn’t say anything, but watches him with that same smile, waiting for some sort of answer. Lu Han wants to say something, but his ears are dribbling out white noise, mind a blank canvas.

“...Oh,” he says at last. He wets his lip, hesitates on his next response. “Are you… are you going to tell them, then?”

Yixing winks at him. “We’ll see. He’s a smart guy, I think I’ll let him figure it out first.”

 

-

 

Lu Han doesn’t stew on Yixing’s fucking cryptic-ass comments. He goes to class and to work, and spends his week holed up in Bobst studying for his midterms. He eats lunch with Yixing when he can, and they don’t bring up the conversation again, sticking to just normal school complaining and making plans for the weekend.

He does whine to Minseok a little, dropping by his dorm when he’s certain Kris is still on campus, and blurts out everything that’s been going on. Minseok listens with half an ear, concentrating more on his Chinese homework, but he makes appropriate noises at the right times during Lu Han’s story.

“What’s going on, Minseok, what am I doing? What is _he_ doing?” Lu Han groans, flopping on Minseok’s bed and suffocating himself with a pillow in frustration.

“You like Yixing, Yixing likes someone who is heavily implied to be you, Yixing and Kris are no longer dating, what do you _think_ is going on?” Minseok answers sarcastically, scribbling down characters in his notebook at his desk. He spares a pitying glance at Lu Han’s prone form. “Tell me you’re not actually this dense.”

“But what if it’s not me! What if he’s been talking about, I don’t know, Tao all this time, and I was just too blind to see it?” Lu Han wails through the pillow. He takes it away and glares balefully at an unsympathetic Minseok. “You’re not taking this seriously!”

Minseok rolls his eyes and throws his pencil down. “I’ve been friends with you two since freshman year, right? I think I know you two pretty well by now, don’t you think?”

Lu Han sulkily nods, pouting. “You’re treating me like a child right now,” he points out, petulant and grumpy.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t being a giant buttnugget right now, I wouldn’t have to,” Minseok snaps. He pinches the skin just above the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Look, my point is, I’ve seen you two interact with each other, and I swear to god, you guys have basically been platonically married since you first met. Would it be so strange if he actually did _like_ you?”

Lu Han grumbles and smushes the pillow back into his face, response unintelligible. Minseok sighs.

“You can stay a little longer and whine if you want, but counseling hours are over if you’re not gonna listen, okay,” he says and goes back to work.

Spurned by Minseok’s lack of patience, Lu Han leaves and drops himself at Jongdae’s dorm instead. Tao lets him in again, smiling at him as he leaves the dorm for class, and Lu Han makes his way to Jongdae’s room to go and wail a little more.

“Jongdaaaa—holy shit!” Lu Han slams the door closed again. His eyes are peeled wide open, still seeing the after-images of what was behind the door, and he scrubs them with his palms, trying to squish them out of memory. “I did not see what I just saw, I did not see what I just saw, _I did not see what I just saw._ ”

An out-of-breath and disheveled Jongdae quickly exits the room, cracking the door wide enough for Lu Han to catch sight of an equally messed-up Kris sprawling on the mattress before shutting it close again.

“Hey, seriously, can you learn to knock,” Jongdae says, flushed and a little annoyed. “Didn’t your mother, like, teach you manners or anything?”

Lu Han stares at him incredulously, ignoring the state of his undone pants and peeking boxers. “ _Um._ You? _You?_ Kris? _You and Kris?_ ” He gestures to the door with flailing hands. “ _Hello?_ ”

“Oh, that,” Jongdae says, lips curling into a smug grin. He crosses his arms and leans against the door coolly, shrugging casually. “You know.”

“No? I don’t know? I seriously do not fucking know?” Lu Han squints at him with more incredulity. “Can we not with the crypticness?”

Jongdae breaks out into a gleeful smile. “I did it, okay, I soothed the heroine’s broken heart, I got senpai to _notice me._ I _am_ Domyouji, Lu Han!”

“...Can we please not use these terms, this is not a shoujo manga, please stop.” Lu Han rubs his temples. “So, you’re saying you and Kris are a thing now.”

Jongdae snorts. “Yeah, like ‘thing’ is any less juvenile. Say the big kids’ word, Lu Han, go on, repeat after me: ‘re-la-tion-ship’.”

Lu Han mimes a backhand at him. “Shut up, brat, I’m older than you, don’t make me spank you.”

“Sorry, man, you missed your chance, my ass is Kris’ now,” Jongdae retorts, wiggling his butt at him for extra emphasis. Lu Han grimaces and pushes his face away.

“Wait, you knew that he and Yixing broke up already,” Lu Han asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, yeah, I mean, they’d been broken up for a while? Like mid-January maybe? Didn’t Yixing say anything?”

“Uh….” Lu Han’s at a loss for words. Jongdae notes this with a raised eyebrow but doesn’t press on.

“Anyway, now’s your chance to get Yixing,” he continues, grabbing Lu Han by the shoulders. Lu Han stares back at him, wide-eyed. “Don’t give me that look, you know just as well as I do that Yixing’s been the Kaoru to your Kenshin since forever. Go get him, man.”

“Stop saying that, oh my god. And what manga reference is this?”

Jongdae shrugs. “You said no more shoujo references, so I gave you a shonen one. And it’s a classic, you uncultured swine, educate yourself.”

“I’m leaving, I can’t do this,” Lu Han says, clutching at his temples. Jongdae thumps him enthusiastically across the back.

“Get ‘im, tiger!”

“I will slap you.”

(He texts a “Congratulations on snatching senpai’s heart!” to Jongdae as he walks away from the dorm building with a wry smile.

Jongdae pings back with a bunch of smilies and cat faces.)

 

-

 

So, it’s not actually that Lu Han _doesn’t_ realize who Yixing’s been talking about. He’s not stupid, he’s just worried.

A better word would be ‘scared’, to be honest. The thought of confessing feels ever more daunting than before, now that he’s been basically given the okay to go and say he loves Yixing to his face. And it’s weird because he’s only just been able to say the words to himself, fully and without pause or hesitation.

He does love Yixing; he loves the stupid dramas Yixing likes to watch at night, the miles of clementine rinds he leaves behind after eating through an entire crate, the Chinese songs he likes to randomly sing while cooking dinner, the way he lets Lu Han collapse on him after a long day and use him as a pillow. He loves the faces Yixing makes when he puts lemon juice in his drink at a restaurant when Yixing isn’t looking, how he always makes time to talk to the other tenants of their building and listen to the older folk and speak back to them in their home language, the smile that Yixing always gives him when he thinks Lu Han isn’t looking like he’s something precious.

He loves that Yixing doesn’t push him into anything, just stops and waits for him to catch up because he’s important enough that Yixing refuses to leave him behind, loves everything that makes up Yixing the person.

He just… doesn’t know the words to say all of it.

 

-

 

They meet up at Bang again, Lu Han’s choice because he’d been tasting phantom pho for the past three days and he needs to make it a reality to assuage his stomach. Yixing’s wearing a thicker jacket today, which Lu Han is extremely proud of, and he tells him so as they get seated in the far back of the restaurant.

“You’re dressed like a real human today, Yixing, this is a miracle,” he says tearfully, pressing a hand to his heart. Yixing rolls his eyes and kicks him under the table.

“It’s 18 degrees outside, I’m not suicidal,” he retorts, unzipping his jacket and revealing a thin hoodie underneath. Lu Han spoke too soon. He covers his face with his hand and muffles a despairing groan.

“I swear to god, you just never listen. It’s just like that saying, teaching an old dog new tricks,” he says, exasperated. Yixing ignores him for the server and orders them their regular meal.

“Shut up and pass me my chopsticks, you nag,” he says when he’s done. Lu Han tsks at him but passes over a pair of chopsticks from the canister. “Daddy’s been so suffocating lately.”

“Daddy will whip your ass if you keep airing out our dirty laundry in public,” Lu Han mutters, taking out a pair for himself. Yixing just smirks.

“But I like being punished,” he says slyly, trailing up his foot against Lu Han’s leg. Lu Han almost has a heart attack and chokes on his spit. He doubles over coughing and forces out a middle finger, shaking it emphatically at Yixing.

“Cannot take you _anywhere_ , jesus christ,” Lu Han manages to spit out when he’s done hacking up a lung. Yixing hands over a napkin with an amused and slightly apologetic smile.

“But I know you love me best,” he says with his dimpled smile, creasing his eyes.

Lu Han’s heart does stop now. Yixing’s distracted by a group of new customers clambering into the restaurant, but Lu Han’s focused completely on Yixing.

“I do,” he whispers. Yixing doesn’t turn around, likely not hearing what he said, and Lu Han bites down on his lip, screwing back up his courage to say it again. “I do love you.”

Yixing doesn’t look back at him, and for a second, Lu Han thinks he’s deliberately pretending not to hear him because he wants to let him down without saying it outright, but then he catches the suppressed dimple on the side of his cheek and the upward-turned lips. Lu Han doesn’t quite kick him, but it’s a near thing.

“Oh my god, you absolute buttface, don’t do this to me,” Lu Han whines, warm under his collar and on his cheeks. Yixing looks at him now, positively beaming back at him and trying to hold back a laugh.

“It’s only fair I make you wait a little bit, though,” he says. “You made me wait three years.” He bites his own lip then, unable to keep the glee from his face.

It feels like there’s a sun growing inside his body, ripening and cresting like a sweet kiss, but with the force of a supernova. Their server comes back with their bowls and leaves them grinning goofily at each other across the table, food ignored.

There’s something at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be exhaled into life, but Lu Han thinks he’ll keep it to himself for now. They’re already being cheesy enough as it is.

( _I think I’d wait an eternity for you._ )

 

-

 

They do a big spring clean-out of their apartment when the air is finally warm enough that their fingers don’t freeze immediately within five minutes of exposure. Yixing opens all of the windows of their apartment, and gets stuck with dusting the entire place, while Lu Han does a huge clean-out of both their closets and laundry for their bed sheets and blankets.

Lu Han’s almost done canvassing the black hole that is his closet when Yixing pops his head in, pulling his attention away.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get us some lunch. You wanna come with or do you wanna finish cleaning up in here?” Yixing lets his eyes stray around the room, noting the mountains of dusty clothing and textbooks and shoes piled on the ground and mattress.

Lu Han thinks about it for a minute, considering the mess surrounding him and the almost empty closet before him. It’s an easy choice. “Yeah, I’m coming. Gimme a second to find some socks and shoes.”

Yixing steps in the room to wait while Lu Han searches through his sock drawer. He pulls out a pair of polka-dotted socks, takes a whiff to make sure it’s clean, and sits down on a pile of clothing to pull them on. Meanwhile, Yixing’s rifling through his stuff, looking with polite interest at the hidden knick-knacks Lu Han managed to unearth.

“You’re a bit of a packrat, aren’t you,” he says amused and picking up a flimsy stuffed bunny. Lu Han makes a face at him and snatches it out of his hands.

“They’re memories in tangible form, okay, don’t judge,” he says defensively, setting the bunny on the top of his dresser, away from Yixing’s preying fingers.

“It’s cute, though. It sort of fits your hoarding personality,” Yixing teases, poking him in the ribs. Lu Han lightly smacks him on the chest, then draws him in for a chaste kiss.

“ _You’re_ cute. Now, go wait outside; I’ll be ready in a minute,” he says when he pulls away. Yixing smiles and leans in for another peck before drawing away. He’s about to leave the room when something catches his eye.

“Oh! What’s this?” he says, moving to Lu Han’s closet and reaching his arm in for something. He pulls out a dingy red guitar and gently blows the dust off it, cradling it in his arms. “When did you get this?”

Lu Han doesn’t turn quite as red as the guitar, but it’s deep enough that Yixing notices. “I, uh, I bought it for you,” he mumbles, hoping Yixing doesn’t pry any further.

“You bought it for who?” Yixing asks, smirking and drawing out his ‘o’. Lu Han scowls at him and steps toward him to take the guitar away, but Yixing holds it out of reach. “Come on, Lu Han, pretty please?”

“I bought it for you, you jerk, now give it back,” he snaps, reaching for it. Yixing titters and bops him on the nose.

“But this is a gift for me, isn’t it? Why would I give it back?” Yixing cooes, dancing away and strumming the guitar a little. “This baby is all mine now.”

Lu Han throws his hands up in defeat and walks out of the room. “I’m leaving and getting lunch, and you can’t have any,” he calls out, sulking.

He’s bracing against the wall, slipping on his sneakers, when he feels Yixing come up behind him and pulls him to his chest. He backhands Yixing, does a half-hearted job of trying to break free, and lets Yixing grab his hand.

“Guess what,” Yixing sings, kissing the back of his neck. Lu Han’s cheeks flare up.

“What, dingus,” he replies, trying to hold onto the irritation.

“You love me,” Yixing continues, placing extra emphasis on ‘love’. He wraps his arms around Lu Han’s waist and squeezes. “You _love_ me.”

“Do I really?” Lu Han hedges, fighting a smile, turning his head back to face him. Yixing nods seriously and presses his forehead to Lu Han’s.

“Yes, you do. And that’s very okay with me,” he says somberly. Lu Han snorts and breaks away, Yixing’s arms easily parting for him.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. I’m still leaving you behind.”

Yixing hums and follows Lu Han out the door.

“That’s okay. I still love you anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> written for [deerofdawn](http://deerofdawn.livejournal.com/), the lu han fic exchange. ao3 mirror to the [lj post](http://ventice.livejournal.com/6007.html).
> 
> this was a behemoth of a fic for me; before this exchange, the most i'd ever written was like 7k in one sitting for a one-shot, but this fic, man, this fic set new records for me. i scrambled to finish this fic on time for that second extension, writing like ~5k a day for four days to get that end 12k in. there were many a tear shed over the writing process, i can say that much. a lot of the time, i wanted to stop and just scrap everything i was writing. near the end, i just got so burned out that it'd seemed unlikely i'd even be able to finish this fic at all.
> 
> but i got there in the end. thank you to [whit](http://minsuckit.tumblr.com/) and [jihye](papervoiced.tumblr.com) for holding my hands for those last two weeks and being the necessary drill sergeants/mothers i needed to browbeat me into finishing this fic. srsly, i couldn't have done without you two. and thank to my beloved tlist for your endless support and tolerance of my crying during the deadlines. you guys are the actual best.
> 
> there were a couple of manga references made in this fic. they were (in order of mention): beauty pop, hana yori dango, strobe edge, skip beat, ouran high school host club and rurouni kenshin. the song yixing sang to luhan was "the moon represents my heart", which was most famously sung by teresa teng, found [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bv_cEeDlop0). translated lyrics and pinyin can be found [here](http://edonn.com/2003/09/18/moon-represents-my-heart/). there was a bit of discussion of whether to keep the pinyin or replace it with characters in the fic, but i decided to keep it as is for now.
> 
> this was the second exchange i'd ever participated in, and despite the amount of pain i went through, i really am glad i did it. i learned a lot from this experience. i didn't get to write all the things i wanted, in terms of actual outline and pacing, and i'm p sure there's a lot of superfluous language here that can be cut out, but i'm overall pleased with what i got out of it. i think of this as a nicely-edited first draft; maybe someday, i'll be able to come back and edit it more thoroughly.
> 
> look forward to a coda with actual porn in the near future.


End file.
